


Spoof of the Lioness

by Ode2aNightingale



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Crack, I love these characters but they are fun to tease, Parody, Roger is fabulous, lots of boob jokes in this, this is seriously so dumb but I get a kick out of it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-05 12:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ode2aNightingale/pseuds/Ode2aNightingale
Summary: The story of everyone's favorite cross-dressing knight retold as a wacky comedy. In which Roger is obsessed with fashion, Myles is never sober, and Thayet is a crazy cat lady. [Song of the Lioness parody spanning all four books.]Roger waved an impatient hand at her. "Delia, would you do me a favor and quit trying to sleep with me? It ain't happening, sister. Not while you're in THAT outfit."





	1. Gender-Confused Twins

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted over at fanfiction.net from late 2012 to early 2017. I figured I might as well post it here too. If you don't mind boob jokes, a fashion-obsessed Roger, the glorification of beef jerky, and plenty of running gags, you have come to the right place!

Once upon a time there was a girl named Alanna who was trapped in the wrong gender. "I want to be a MAN!" Alanna roared with masculine fury. "I want to eat beef jerky, sit around drinking beer, and watch football on the weekends. Rargh!"

"Boo, I hate everyone," said her twin brother Thom, who hated everyone. "Except for my good pals Barbie and Ken." He pulled out his Barbie dolls and admired their outfits with un-masculine glee. "I don't want to be a knight. I want to have tea parties, sew fashionable clothes, and become an expert at interior decorating!"

"Then we'll switch places, you sissy!" Alanna bellowed, angered by her brother's girly hobbies. "I'll go off to the palace to become a manly man and you can go be a fruitcake."

"I'm not a fruitcake," growled Thom. "I just don't like to get dirty. Is that a crime?"

"Whatever, you poor excuse for a lad. Let's go visit the old hippie woman and get out of here."

Thom put away his dolls and followed Alanna to the rainbow-colored shack where Maude, the village hippie, lived. Alanna strode powerfully like a manly man and Thom walked daintily behind, frowning at the world because he hated everyone (except for Barbie and Ken, of course). The shack was filled with peace signs, pot plants, and daisy chains, and old Maude sat in a beanbag chair staring at a lava lamp.

"Hey, man," Maude said sleepily. "What's hangin'?"

"Yo mama," Alanna replied.

"That's not cool, man. Peace and love, kiddies. It's all about peace and love." Maude got up from her beanbag chair and staggered over to the fire, which glowed in several different colors. "Okay, man," she slurred, adjusting her tie-dye bandana. "I want you guys to stick your hands in this psychedelic fire."

The twins did as she said, because their father had never bothered to teach them that hugs were better than drugs. Alanna got some really trippy visions and saw images of Thom playing with her old Barbie dolls in his secret hideout. "Holy crap. So that's where all my discarded birthday presents went."

"Can we get out of here now?" Thom complained. "I've got a scarf that I need to finish knitting."

"Yeah whatever, man," said Maude. "Get in my hippie van and I'll take you to the convent. I've got some brownies I need to sell, anyway."

Thom got into Maude's hippie van, glaring at the peace signs that had been painted everywhere, and finished knitting his scarf while Maude drove to the convent. When they arrived at the City of the Gods, Maude went off to sell her brownies and Thom went to the convent, hoping to show off his skills in embroidery and interior design. "Hi," he said sullenly, scowling at a group of young girls who were having a tea party. "My name is Thom and you're all inferior."

"Get out of here, you sexist pig!" said one of the girls, scowling back at Thom.

"You're not inferior because you're  _women_ ," said Thom, rolling his eyes impatiently. "You're inferior because I can totally kick your ass at sewing and knitting and embroidery. Check out this tablecloth I made." He showed off his best tablecloth, which put all the girls' work to shame. "I'm such a prodigy, I sewed this thing when I was three years old. Try to beat  _that_ , ladies."

The ladies were not impressed. "But you're a  _boy_ ," said another girl, giggling.

"So what?" snapped Thom. "Boys can knit and sew and throw tea parties as well as any stupid girl! I'll show you, missy," he growled, developing an evil gleam in his eyes. "I'll show you  _all_." Muttering darkly to himself, he gathered up his knitting needles and strode away, plotting revenge.

Meanwhile, Alanna was trying to hitch a ride with Coram, the village alcoholic. "Hey, Coram. Let's play a game called Drink the Beer!" She handed him a mug of ale.

Coram eagerly chugged it down and Alanna cried, "You win!"

"What do I win?" asked Coram.

"Another beer!"

"Sweet."

Once Coram had chugged down several mugs of ale, he was drunk enough to put on a sequined dress and dance the macarena in front of the king and queen. Before he could find any dresses, Alanna dragged him onto a horse and the two of them hauled it out of there. "Wow!" Alanna cried as they reached the city of Corus. "There are buildings! And people! And overpriced crap for sale!"

"Who wants to buy some teeth?" said a random thief named George, holding a pair of dentures in the air. "Teeth for sale, stolen straight from my mother's mouth! I'll sell 'em to the highest bidder!"

People started crowding around to place their bids and Alanna quickly dragged Coram off to the palace, where Duke Gareth waited for her arrival. "Your father was a pansy!" Duke Gareth scolded, wagging his finger at Alanna. "A pansy, I say!"

"I know," Alanna replied sadly. "My brother inherited all of his sissiness. But don't worry about me. I'm a MAN!" She pulled out a strip of beef jerky and gnawed on it ferociously.

"Take that drunken lout out of my sight!" cried Duke Gareth, shaking his first at Coram. Coram had passed out and lay in a drunken heap on the floor. "Dear Mithros's trousers, he's drooling on that darling new carpet!"

Sighing, Alanna shoved Coram into some closet where no one would find him and set off to meet the other young lads who wanted to be manly man knights. "Hey, new kid!" said an ugly boy named Ralon. "Yo mama slept with the goatherd!"

"Oh yeah? Well yo mama's a saint. A Saint Bernard!" Alanna shot back.

"Yo mama so stupid she waited for a stop sign to turn green."

"Yo mama so dumb she thought an elevator was a mobile home."

"Yo mama so fat she sat on a rainbow and made Skittles."

"Yo mama so big, fat, and clumsy she tried to get to Wal-Mart, stumbled over K-Mart, and landed right on Target." Alanna jumped up in victory. "Ha! I win!"

Thoroughly humiliated, Ralon started to cry. "I'll get you, my pretty!" Dripping tears on his shirt, he stumbled off like a sissy.

"What a fruitcake," said Prince Jonathan, who happened to stroll up with his fly posse. "Yo, Alan. Meet the crew. This here's Gary, who is large and will sit on you if you upset him. This is Raoul, who is larger and can sit on you harder. And this is Alex, who likes to lurk around suspiciously like a suspicious lurker."

"Howdy y'all," Alanna greeted like a proper noble.

After a long pause, Jon coughed and muttered, "Oh yeah, I forgot. That's Francis over there, but no one really cares about him."

"Hi," said Francis.

"FRANCIS!" bellowed Raoul. "I didn't say you could speak!" Francis immediately faded into the shadows.

"Hey, that's  _my_  signature move!" hissed Alex, fading into the shadows secretively.

Suddenly Gary shoved a map, a fanny pack, and a bottle of water into Alanna's hands. "I'm Tour Guide Gary and I will be assisting you today. If you look to the left you can see some tame noblemen gathered at the watering hole. A herd of wild servants is grazing at your right. Any questions before I continue the tour?"

"Where's the little pages room?" asked Alanna. "I have to tinkle."

"Just use that." Gary pointed at a potted plant that stood in the corner.

"I can't use that!"

"It's okay, we're all boys here, Alan. It's not like you've got anything that we haven't got, right?"

"Never mind," muttered Alanna. "I'll just wait until the tour is over."

"Suit yourself," said Francis.

"Did I say you could speak, young man?" said Raoul. "No, I did not. So get back to your corner and stay there!"

Francis quickly scurried into his corner and everyone forgot about him.


	2. In Which Everyone is Sweaty

The very next day, Alanna was woken up by Tour Guide Gary, who burst into her room with the latest maps and palace merchandise. "And for a limited time only, you can get a travel mug with Prince Jonathan's face on it. Available in the gift shop located at—"

"Hey, I'm not decent!" Alanna roared, hiding under her blankets. "Get out of my room!"

"Oh, come on, Alan," said Gary. "We're all lads here. It's not like you've got any surprises hiding under those blankets."

"THIEF!" Alanna yelled. "THIEF! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"Oh snap." Gary grabbed his tour guide maps and hurried out of there.

After making sure that a drunken Coram didn't start an impromptu conga line in the banquet hall, Alanna headed to reading and writing class. "So, how many of you know how to read?" asked the priest who taught the class. Three of the pages put their hands up. "Aw, crap. I got stuck teaching stupid kids this year."

"I don't need no book learnin'!" said a boy who came from a redneck family. "That's fer city folk!"

Then it was time for math class. "Numbers is fer city folk too!" said the same redneck boy.

Later it was time for history class. "History is fer—" Someone shot the redneck boy with a tranquilizer dart and he collapsed onto his desk.

Myles, the alcoholic history teacher, staggered in with a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. "Ossifer, I'm not as think as you drunk I am." He took a swig of beer and stumbled clumsily across the room. "I swear to drunk I'm not God." Finally he passed out and collapsed on top of his desk. All of the pages threw their books into the air and celebrated.

"WOO-HOO! PARTY TIME!"

After the pages finished partying and drinking from Myles' stash of beer, they went outside and beat each other with sticks. "Ha!" said Alanna. "My wooden staff is longer than yours, Gary!"

"Well mine is harder!" Gary shot back.

"Mine's thicker!" said Raoul.

"It really depends on how you use it, you know," said Alex, lurking suspiciously in the shadows.

"Whatever, Alex," said Jon. "You're just jealous because yours is the shortest."

Once everyone was done beating the crap out of each other, it was time for the best part of the day: bath time! Alanna watched in boredom as Jon, Gary, Raoul, and Alex stripped down to their birthday suits and got into the baths. Oh, and Francis was there too, but no one cared. "Come on in, Alan. Don't be shy!" said Gary. "We're all boys here, remember? You've got nothing to hide from  _us_!"

"NO!" roared Alanna. "I refuse to bathe. Real men stay dirty!"

Ralon suddenly crept into the baths and splashed water in Alanna's direction. "Yo mama so dumb she—AAAHHH!" He was grabbed by Raoul and dunked under the water.

* * *

"Even though free time is only a sad figment of our imagination, we're going into the city!" Gary announced one day. "Come on, Alan. I get to be Tour Guide Gary again!" He dragged Alanna into the city and almost knocked over Francis in his eagerness to get outside. No one noticed, since nobody ever noticed Francis. "And up ahead you'll see a man who looks suspiciously like a thief," Gary said in his best tour guide voice, pointing at George.

"Who, me?" said George innocently. "We're all gonna be best friends forever, because I said so. I know some really fun games you kiddies don't know about."

"Like Drink the Beer?" said Alanna. "I already know that one."

"Even better than Drink the Beer!" George took Alanna and Gary into the Dancing Dove and spoke to the barman. "Hey buddy, is there a man named Oliver in here? Last name is Clothesoff."

"Oliver Clothesoff!" shouted the barman. "I need Oliver Clothesoff, right now!"

Everyone in the bar laughed. "Let me try!" said Alanna, approaching the barman. "Is there a Mr. Rotch here? First name is Mike."

"Mike Rotch!" yelled the barman. "I'm looking for Mike Rotch!"

"Wow, George!" said Gary in awe. "You're the best thief friend ever!"

"Maybe you can help me with this jerk named Ralon," said Alanna. "He won't leave me alone and keeps making Yo Mama jokes. They're getting old."

George chuckled warmly and clapped her on the shoulder. "Sure, I'll help. In exchange for your soul, of course!"

"What?"

"Nah, I'm kidding. I'll have to collect yours ears instead."

"WHAT?"

"Joking again. My services are totally free! I do have an ear collection, though. Wanna see it?"

"Uh, maybe later," said Alanna, backing away from George.

Over the next few days Alanna learned some sweet moves from George. Next time Ralon got up in her face and started talking smack about her mama, she beat the crap out of him and made him cry. "Yo mama so fat, she has her own zip code!" Alanna taunted.

Ralon was so upset that he left court and was never seen again.

Or  _was_  he?

* * *

Suddenly, everyone in the city started to get really sweaty! The healers tried passing out deodorant, but it didn't do any good. "I'm so glad I don't have this condition," Alanna declared with masculine bravado. "Real men don't sweat!"

"Actually, they kinda do," Gary informed her.

"Shut it, you know-it-all!"

Soon all of Alanna's friends started sweating, including Francis. "FRANCIS!" bellowed Raoul. "I didn't say you could get sick! Stop that right now!" But Francis became so sweaty that no deodorant could save him and he died.

"Holy crap!" said a healer. "Francis just died!"

"Who?" said Alanna.

"Francis!" the healer repeated.

"Who the hell is that?" asked Jon.

Gary shrugged. "Never heard of him."

"FRANCIS! I didn't give you permission to die!" Raoul roared. "You disobedient young man!"

Soon everyone forgot about insignificant little Francis, except for Raoul, the only one who ever noticed the highly expendable lad. Everything was fine and dandy until Jon became all covered in manly sweat. "Hooray!" cried Jon. "I've finally hit puberty!"

"Actually, you're sick and dying," a healer informed him.

"Oh, drat. Maybe next year."

The queen patted Jon's arm in sympathy. "It's all right, son. Your father didn't hit puberty until he was twenty."

The healers reserved all the deodorant in the palace for Jon, but the prince grew sweatier by the second. "I must save him!" shouted Alanna, bursting into Jon's room. "The day I turn down a challenge is the day Myles is actually sober!" She produced a magical Super Deodorant that gave off purple residue and used it upon Jon.

"Bring out your dead!" Myles shouted drunkenly. He stumbled into Jon's room and tried to put the prince in a wheelbarrow. After several clumsy attempts, he passed out on the floor.

"I'm not dead!" cried Jon. "I'm alive and well!" To prove his good health, he busted out some sweet dance moves. "Can't touch this! Da na na na!"

"Stop! Johnny time!" cried Alanna.

"Holy crap, this sweatiness was obviously magic," Duke Gareth observed. "It must have been caused by a wizard."

"Like Harry Potter?" said the queen.

Duke Gareth glared at her. "Get real, sis. I could snap Harry Potter's scrawny neck with my eyes closed. I mean a wizard like Duke Roger!"

"Roger?" The king laughed hysterically, as if he had heard the funniest joke ever. "Yeah right! Roger is the last person on earth who would do that!"

Everyone else joined in on his laughter. "You're quite right!"


	3. The King of Fashion

After the sweating fiasco was a thing of the past, everyone in the palace grew excited because Duke Roger had arrived with his massive wardrobe of pretty clothes. "My cousin Roger was voted Best Dressed Man in Tortall five years in a row!" Jon said adoringly. "He's a fashion king!"

"Well I think he's a loser," said Alanna, glaring at the stylish garments that Roger's servants kept bringing into the palace. She was reminded of her sissy brother Thom and his girlish aptitude for knitting and embroidery. "A real man doesn't care about clothes!"

Roger overheard her and laughed. "Foolish boy. You're just jealous because you can never be as fabulous as I am!"

"He's so devilishly handsome," all the court ladies sighed, gazing at Roger and his magnificent style. "A real man knows how to dress himself!"

"I have to admit, he  _does_  know how to dress well," said Alex, lurking in the shadows as usual. "Perhaps this duke can teach me how to be fabulous. Fabulously  _evil_."

Roger soon became the fashion diva of the palace and corrected everyone's wardrobe malfunctions. Along with showing everyone what style was all about, he taught magic class to the pages. "Most of you have probably read those Harry Potter books, but they're a load of crap," Roger lectured. " _This_  is real magic!" He turned Jon's unstylish clothes into the most fashionable outfit ever.

"How fabbity fab!" cried Jon. "Dear heavens, however did you do it?"

"Most people don't use them, but I look trendier when I use this wizard's rod. I would recommend using a jeweled one, like mine, but  _only_ if you know how to color coordinate your outfit."

"What a pansy," muttered Alanna. "He and Thom should become acquainted."

* * *

"Happy Cinco de Mayo!" everyone shouted when the fifth of May arrived in the morning. "Hurry, hide the tequila before Myles drinks it all!"

Alanna was the only one who was not happy about Cinco de Mayo. As usual, Alanna was furious! "Holy crap!" she barked angrily. "I'm bleeding in a very unusual place! This is totally gonna ruin my disguise."

"Use the Force, Alanna!" said a disembodied voice. "Use the Force!"

"What?"

"I mean, go see George! It is your destiny!"

Feeling very uncomfortable, Alanna trotted off like a good little he-she and reached the Dancing Dove, where a redheaded woman named Rispah leered at her. "Why hello there, little man," she drawled. "Why don't you and I become friends?"

"Not now!" Alanna roared like a lion.

"How come, sonny? You scared?"

"Dude, I don't have the right... equipment for that sort of thing," said Alanna. Realizing that everyone was looking at her funny, she hastily mumbled, "I lost it in the war," then dashed off to find George.

George, like any good young thief, stood in his room totally naked. "Hey there, sexy," Alanna purred. "I mean, George, I need your help! And why are you naked?"

"I don't know, but I think it's only fair that you lose the breeches," said George. "I let you see George Jr. all the time, so you ought to show me Little Alan. You know, for science and stuff."

Alanna turned red. "I don't have a Little Alan."

"How terrible! Did you lose it in the war?"

"No, not really. I… I was born without one!"

"You poor lad! That probably qualifies you for disability benefits, you know."

Alanna was ready to rip his head off. "No, you idiot! I'm a girl!"

"Really? When did you get a sex change?"

"I've always been a girl, you dolt. And I need help with my private girly problems. This morning I woke up and—"

"Say no more," George interrupted, looking disturbed. "Let me take you to your future mother-in-law—I mean, my mom." He took her to his mother's house, where Mistress Cooper was flipping through Reader's Digest and watching the latest Oprah show.

"George, what are you doing here?" she demanded. "I kicked you out ages ago! You don't have another  _problem_  that needs curing, do you?"

"Nope, haven't had any problems since the last herpes attack." George shoved Alanna forward. "This little cross-dresser has an issue you need to fix. Er, I'll be leaving now." He quickly dashed off and hid in the other room, where he could eavesdrop.

Embarrassed, Alanna sat down beside Mistress Cooper. "Um, I think I broke something. You know, down  _there_. It's really freaking me out."

Mistress Cooper laughed. "You silly he-she. Didn't you ever have Sex Ed class?"

"No, they don't teach that to the pages. Gary still thinks he was brought by a stork."

George snickered to himself as he continued to eavesdrop. Mistress Cooper pulled out a birth control charm and gave it to Alanna. "Here, this will stop you from having kids. You can practice with my son George to see if it works."

"No!" Alanna bellowed like a bull moose.

"Drat!" said George.

"Oh, come on," said Mistress Cooper. "He's a desperate lad. And so lonely! I keep trying to hook him up with the neighborhood girls, but they're all terrified of his ear collection."

Furious and annoyed as usual, Alanna dashed off as fast as her cross-dressing legs could carry her. When she arrived at the palace, she ran into Francis' ghost without noticing and caught Alex sneaking out of Roger's room, where he was taking private lessons in How To Be an Evil Minion in Five Easy Steps (and Be a Snazzy Dresser as Well!). "Alex, what in the name of lederhosen were you doing with Roger?"

"None of your business." Alex smirked secretively. "But soon I'm going to dress better than you, Alan.  _Much_  better. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to do my morning lurking." And he faded into the shadows.

"FRANCIS!" Raoul screamed at Francis' ghost. "I didn't say you could float in that hallway! Stop it!"

* * *

One day Myles staggered drunkenly over to Alanna with a vat of ale clutched in his arms. "Yo, Alan. I've decided I like you, so wanna come down to my beer factory for the weekend? We can spend the whole time playing beer pong. Woohoo!"

"Sounds like fun!" said Alanna. "I can bring Coram some alcoholic souvenirs!"

"Hell yeah! Let's go, buddy!"

Myles tried running out of the palace, but he tripped down some stairs and passed out. Sighing, Alanna threw some water onto her drunk teacher and helped him onto his horse. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I got drunk and danced a waltz with a sheep?" Myles asked when he woke up.

"Nay," said Alanna. "Prithee, do tell!"

"Well, I—" Myles suddenly collapsed against his horse and started snoring. When he woke up again, he blinked groggily at Alanna. "I don't know if it's the alcohol, but you look kinda like a girl sometimes."

Alanna was silent.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I got drunk and danced a waltz with a sheep?"

Several hours later they arrived at Myles's house and the alcoholic history teacher fell drunkenly out of his saddle. "We're here!" he announced. "The beer factory is right across the street."

"Am I old enough to go in there?" Alanna asked worriedly.

"Sure, my lad! Did I ever tell you about the time I got drunk and danced a waltz with a sheep?"

"You told me that story ten times during our trip, you fool! Have you ever considered Alcoholics Anonymous? I hear Corus has a great AA program."

Myles ignored Alanna and stumbled his way to the ancient beer factory. "This was built by the Old Ones, who were the first people to invent beer. Look, this bottle of ale is over 600 years old!" He chugged down the bottle. "And it still tastes good!"

"What's this sword doing in an old beer factory?" Alanna asked, holding up the sword she had found.

Myles shrugged. "Beats me. I guess the Old Ones used it to crack open their beer cans. Now be a good lad and… and…" He passed out yet again.

Alanna sighed. "Alcoholics Anonymous would really work wonders for you, pal."


	4. A City Without Style

When Alanna returned to the palace with her brand-new sword, she was unable to hide it from Roger, who also happened to be the palace's resident Fashion Police. "Really, Queen Lianne," Roger said fabulously. "You can't possibly wear those shoes with  _that_  outfit. You of all people should know better. Aha, I see you have a new sword, young Alan! Let me see it."

Alanna scowled at him. "Why?"

"To make sure it's hip and stylish, of course. Hmm, that crystal on the hilt looks awfully tacky."

"Well I think  _you're_  awfully tacky," said Alanna.

"Don't go there, girlfriend," Roger said trendily. "Now give me that sword or you'll be talkin' to the hand, 'cause this face ain't listenin'!"

Alanna sulkily handed her sword to the king of fashion so he could make sure it matched her outfit. As Roger touched the tacky hilt with its tacky crystal, he suddenly yelped in pain. "Holy crap! I'm numb!"

"Ha!" laughed Alanna. "You  _are_  a sissy."

"Oh, puh-leez," Roger huffed. "It hurt me because it's such an eyesore. Take this unstylish thing out of my sight." He thrust the sword at Alanna and sauntered fashionably away.

"That sword really is out of fashion," said Alex, who had been lurking around suspiciously like a suspicious lurker. "Don't you know that crystals went out of style decades ago?"

"Since when are you an expert on fashion?" Alanna demanded.

Alex flashed his usual secretive smile. "Since Tortall's  _true_  style expert arrived in town. You can't depend on Prince Jonathan, you know. Jon's taste in clothing is disgraceful."

"What are you saying, exactly?"

"Oh, nothing. But Tortall shouldn't be ruled by a man who wears socks with sandals, don't you agree?" With those mysterious parting words, Alex lurked off into a shadowy corner and disappeared.

* * *

George, being the local mailman as well as the local thief, brought Alanna a letter one day. "Oh great, it's from my brother," grumbled Alanna. "What could that pansy possibly want?" She ripped open the letter and read:

_Dear Alan,_

_Somebody named Duke Roger has been making a lot of inquiries about me. I gave all the convent girls makeovers and redecorated their rooms, and word must have gotten around. I heard that Duke Roger gets terribly jealous of anyone who has good fashion sense and even tries to stop their careers. Well he won't be stopping me! As soon as I pass my Mastery of Sewing and Embroidery ordeal, that duke is going down!_

_Anyway, don't take any of Roger's fashion advice. I've also heard rumors that he once attended a party wearing white socks with a black outfit. How tacky!_   


_Love, Thom_   


"He gets sissier every day," Alanna groaned. "It's a good thing I'm man enough for both of us!" She grabbed some paper and write a reply to Thom's letter:

_Dear Fruitcake:_

_Dude, I would never take fashion tips from Roger. Fashion is_   _evil_.  _Anyway, Roger is full of himself. He's not even that snazzy of a dresser, but he would bite my head off if I said anything._

_Got to go now. I'm off to do manly things._

_Love, Alan_   


* * *

Alanna decided to go hang out in Persopolis with Jon and his posse, because somebody had to monitor Myles' alcohol intake, limit Gary's tour guide shenanigans, and make sure Alex' lurking didn't get out of hand. Fortunately Roger wouldn't be coming along, but that didn't stop Tortall's Fashion Police from gathering everyone together for one last chat before they left. "Gather round, kiddies!" Roger said stylishly. "It's story time with Cousin Roger!"

"Oh, boy!" said Jon. "Do you think he'll tell us where he bought that outfit?"

"Never," Alex said mysteriously. "A great man like Roger wouldn't share his fashion secrets with the likes of  _you_."

Once everyone was gathered, Roger paced around like a model on a fashion show runway. "To make a long story short, the Black City is evil and you should all stay away from it. Especially you, Jon. You should definitely stay away from the Black City.  _Hint hint._ "

"Why is the Black City evil?" Alanna demanded.

"Because it's painted entirely black, you fool," said Roger. "There's absolutely no potential for style in a place like that! How can you color coordinate your outfit in a city that only has  _one_  color?"

"It's a fashion fiasco," said Alex, shaking his head sadly.

"Anyway, make sure you all avoid such an unstylish place. Especially  _you_ , Jon.  _Wink wink. Nudge nudge."_

So Jonathan and his posse rode off to the desert, where they chilled with their Bazhir pals. Ali Mukhtab, the crazy cat man in charge, passed out some beers and showed Alanna his 10,000 cats. "That one's Ali Jr., and that's Ali #2, and Little Ali, and Muhammad Ali, and—"

"Yo dude, that's a sweet vest," Alanna interrupted. "Where'd you get it?"

"I had to go all the way to the mall in Corus. Can you believe that? And it wasn't even on sale!"

_Dear Diary_ , Alex wrote secretly while his friends chatted.  _The Bazhir don't know how to dress themselves at all. I mean, sandals and vests? Really? So out of style! Once Roger becomes king of Tortall, these people will learn what true style is about, mark my words._

"FRANCIS!" Raoul shouted across the desert. "I didn't say you could stay behind! Get your ghostly self over here right now!"

That night, Alanna heard Jon get out of bed and followed him using the stealthy powers she had picked up from Alex. "Hey, Johnny, where are you off to?"

"Er... I had to tinkle," said Jon.

"You got fully dressed just to tinkle?"

Jon looked at her and shrugged. "Yeah."

"You liar! You're going off to that unstylish Black City that Roger warned us about."

"I can't resist!" Jon admitted. "Didn't you notice all the hinting and the winking and nudging when Roger was talking to us? It's as if he  _wants_  me to see what bad fashion truly looks like."

"Or maybe he's trying to get you killed," Alanna suggested.

"That's silly," said Jon, chuckling warmly. "Roger would never hurt me. He's the one who taught me how to match my shoes with my tunic! Now come on, let's go find that Black City."

Alanna scowled and followed Jon across the desert until they reached the dreaded city that was painted black. "They could have at least built an Emerald City instead," Alanna complained. "I wouldn't mind meeting the Wizard of Oz and asking for a new brother."

"Halt!" said the evil Black City gods, who were all dressed badly and in desperate need of new hairstyles.

"You guys dress funny," said Jon. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that red clashes with orange?"

"Oh yeah? Well take this!" said the gods. Jealous of Alanna's style, they made her clothes magically disappear.

Jon's mouth dropped open. "Holy crap, Alan, your man boobs are huge! And where did Little Alan go?"

"Idiot, these aren't man boobs!" Alanna roared.

"Are you sure? You might need a bra to restrain those things. Even Raoul's aren't that big!"

Alanna was so ferociously angry that she spat at the evil gods. "Yo mama so fat she uses a mattress for a tampon!"

Unable to come up with a Yo Mama joke to defeat Alanna, the evil gods admitted defeat and disappeared, leaving Jon and Alanna to stare awkwardly at each other. Jon cleared his throat. "So, uh... about Little Alan. Are you hiding it somewhere? Did you turn it invisible? Did one of Ali Mukhtab's cats bite it off?"

"Little Alan never really existed," Alanna admitted. "I'm a girl, so quit staring at me, fool!" She snatched Jon's shirt and covered herself up.

"Wow, I never guessed your true gender at all!"

"I can't imagine how. Didn't you guys notice my high girly voice or how my pants don't have a bulge in them? The breeches we wear are awfully tight."

Jon shrugged. "We just assumed you were really small down there. So, wanna be my squire?"

"Sure, as long as you don't fall in love with me and act like a jerk years from now."

Once Jon agreed and made some promises he wouldn't keep, the two of them strolled off into the sunset to find many grand adventures.


	5. Jeepers Creepers

Alanna, who was now a young cross-dressing squire instead of a page, traipsed about in the rain one day. "Crap, I can't get this _National Tortallan Enquirer_ magazine wet," she said. "Though I can't imagine why Myles would want to read this. There's an article claiming that there are aliens controlling King Roald! And that Prince Jonathan is actually Duke Gareth and Eleni Cooper's love-child!" Figuring that Myles would be too drunk to read the magazine anyway, Alanna decided to protect herself rather than the _Enquirer_ and ran under a tree for shelter.

"Hey, watch it, you jerk!" said the black cat she almost tripped over. "I'm trying to stay dry here!"

"Quiet, talking kitty!" Alanna roared. "I hear there are hobos wandering these woods and I don't want to disturb them."

The cat snickered. "Too late for that."

Alanna realized that a hobo woman had snuck into her shelter while her back was turned. "Shoo, hobo woman! I don't have any spare change. You'd just waste it on beer at the convenience store anyway. I know your type!"

"That's no way to talk to a goddess, my daughter," said the hobo woman.

"I ain't your daughter! You're a crackhead as well as a bum. I thought you people only hung around cities."

"Sit down and let me make you some hobo soup," said the woman, pulling on her fingerless bum gloves. "Luckily I've got some tasty shoe leather with me! And while we're at it, I'll tell you what you're afraid of."

"I'm afraid of nothing!" Alanna bellowed fiercely. "I'm a REAL man!"

The hobo goddess laughed. "You are not, young lady. Now first of all, you fear the Ordeal of Knighthood. You've been scared ever since Jon came out of it crying like a sissy."

"Well Jon _is_ a sissy."

"So are you, girlfriend. You're afraid of love!"

"Am not! I just think that abstinence is the one true contraceptive! Now what else am I afraid of?"

The hobo goddess started to laugh hysterically. In fact, she laughed so hard that she nearly choked on the bite of shoe leather she was trying to gulp down. "Roger," she gasped out, still giggling wildly.

Soon Alanna was laughing too. "Roger? You've got to be kidding me! As if I would ever be afraid of a man who's obsessed with clothes!"

"Well, be careful of that fashion king," the goddess warned. "And here, take this as a nifty souvenir." The hobo goddess pulled a coal out of her cooking fire and handed it to Alanna. "Take it. It's quite cool."

Alanna studied the coal. "I cannot read the fiery letters."

"Let me see that." The hobo goddess leaned over to look. "It says One Ring to rule them—wait, wrong story. It actually says Made in China. Sorry, but I'm on a low budget here."

Alanna shrugged. "I wasn't expecting expensive gifts from a _hobo_. Why don't you get a job? All you have to do is show your underwear at any bar and they'll give you a dollar. That's how my dad earned a living when he was my age." She realized she was left talking to herself, since the hobo goddess had vanished. "Good riddance. I bet she's begging in front of 7-11 right now, hoping for a free Slurpee. Mark my words."

* * *

When Alanna returned to the palace, she found Myles passed out on his desk in a drunken stupor. "Yo Myles, I got the _National Tortallan Enquirer._ Want me to just leave it here?" Myles snored in response, so Alanna shoved the magazine under his head.

"Way to waste a good magazine," complained the black cat. "What if Prince Jon really _is_ Duke Gareth and Eleni Cooper's love-child?"

"Gee willikers!" cried Jon. "Is that a cat?"

"Jeepers!" said Gary.

"Golly!" gasped Raoul.

Alanna glared at them. "Do not infect my cat's ears with your sissy talk! I'm naming him Faithful."

"Aw, what a pity," sighed Gary. "I wanted to name him Raoul."

Everyone looked at him oddly. "Why would you want to name a _cat_ after me?" Raoul asked.

Gary shrugged. "I don't know. I just think it's a good name!"

Suddenly Roger, still the most stylish man in the palace, came strolling in wearing the latest fashions. "I'm positively fab! Alex, my dear boy, the latest volume of Convent Girls Gone Wild has arrived. Would you run down and fetch it for me?"

"Oh boy! Convent Girls Gone Wild!" Alex eagerly dashed off.

Faithful hissed at Roger. "Those clothes are _so_ last season, buddy, and you know it!"

"Last season?" cried Roger. "How dare you suggest such an absurd thing! This is the height of fashion!" Huffing angrily, he sauntered out of the room.

"Way to go, Faithful!" said Alanna. "Bring that diva bastard down a few pegs!"

"I hope you're happy, Alan," said Jon, pouting in Alanna's direction. "Now that Roger's upset, he won't take me to the zoo!"

"Jon, you're a grown-up now," Gary reminded him. "The last time Roger took you to the zoo was when you were ten years old."

"I can dream, okay?"

* * *

"The country of Tusaine is full of jerks," the king announced. "But we should make peace with them because they make really good pie over there."

"I don't believe in peace, you pansy king!" yelled Dain the Tusaine knight. "I'm a knight of Tusaine, and my sword is much longer than that of any Tortall sissy!"

"Oh yeah?" roared Alanna, getting up in Dain's face with her sword in her hand. "Well get a load of _this_ baby. It came from an ancient beer factory, but it turns powerful men numb!" She gestured at Roger, who promptly turned his back on her and waved his hand in the air.

"What _ever_!" said Roger. "Talk to the hand, girlfriend!"

Alanna brought her sword up against Dain's to compare them. "Ha! Yours is only a runt, Dain the Tusaine who wants to visit Maine in the rain while riding a train instead of a plane and walks with a cane! Victory is mine!"

"Now that this testosterone battle is over, can we please have some pie?" pleaded the king. "Dain's cherry scented perfume is making me hungry."

* * *

The night before Jonathan's birthday, Alanna snuck into the Dancing Dove to see George. But first she approached the bartender with a very important errand. "I'm looking for a woman named Amanda. Last name is Hugandkiss."

"I need Amanda Hugandkiss!" yelled the gullible barman.

"So do I," said George's cousin Rispah. She winked at Alanna. "I'll give you a discount tonight, sonny."

"I already told you, I lost my equipment in the war!" Alanna snapped. "I'm very sensitive about its loss, so quit reminding me!"

When Alanna finally reached George's room, she discovered that George was, surprise surprise, not naked! "You're only wearing clothes because I'm a girl, aren't you?" she demanded.

George just stared at her. "Well… yeah."

"So if I was a guy... Wait, never mind. Don't answer that question."

"Your sissy of a brother sent the prince a birthday gift," said George, handing Alanna a box tied up with a fashionable bow that Thom created himself. "Boy am I glad I don't have siblings." He suddenly looked at Alanna and purred, "How old are you, foxy lady?"

"Dude, I'm only fifteen," said Alanna. "Now's not the time to turn into a pedo."

"Oh, come on. Here in the city, we could be married by now!"

"PEDO!" Alanna screamed, then ran out of the room.


	6. Myles Is Just Thirsty

The very next day, everyone celebrated Jon's birthday with enough beer to keep even Myles satisfied. Alanna sat huddled in a corner and watched her friends make fools of themselves. "FRANCIS!" Raoul wailed drunkenly. "I never said you could be forgotten! You impertinent lad!"

"Who's this Francis you're always going on about?" Gary asked, walking around tipsily.

"Don't you remember poor Francis?" Raoul blubbered, crying into his beer glass. "He was so brave!"

"Whatever, man. I'm gonna go flirt with the hot chick who just arrived." Gary stumbled off to visit Delia, the "hot chick" who stood surrounded by every manly man except for Alanna. "Hey, baby," Gary slurred. "Nice pair of melons." He fondly stroked the two watermelons that sat on the refreshment table. "I wanna feel your hooters." He petted the owls that sat beside Delia.

Alex wasn't impressed with Delia and lurked in the shadows, glaring at her dress. "I don't like your outfit, you hussy," he murmured secretively. "You call that dress fashionable? It was fashionable _five years ago_."

"Whatever," huffed Delia, jealous that Roger had given all of his styling advice to Alex. "It doesn't matter what I'm wearing. I can seduce _anyone_ , including that scrawny little boy over there." She pointed to Alanna, who continued to sit in the corner. "Hey, kiddie! Come over here and let Auntie Delia give you some sugar!"

"Please, lady, leave me alone," Alanna begged. "I'm not what you think I am!"

Delia sidled over to Alanna and stroked her shoulder, batting her eyelashes. "Oh, don't be shy, little boy. I don't bite, unless you want me to." She winked and moved in closer.

"Stop!" cried Alanna. "You'll open up my war wound!"

"Come on, Delia," said Jon, dragging her away. "Alan still thinks that girls have cooties. Isn't he a precious little tyke?"

"Surprise!" Myles cried drunkenly. He grabbed a big vat of beer and dumped it all over Jon, bathing the prince in alcohol. "Hurhurhur. Bappy hirthday! Er, I mean, Happy dirthbay. No, wait. It's _birthday_! Happy, aw whatever." Shocked into silence, Jon tried to find a towel to wipe himself with, but Myles started licking the beer off of him. Once he was done licking the birthday boy, the drunk history teacher climbed onto a table and started singing. "I'm too sexy for Tusaine, too sexy for Tusaine, Tortall, and Sarain! Thank you, thank you. I'm here till Friday!" He finally passed out and tumbled to the floor.

"This is why I hate parties," muttered Alanna.

* * *

Alanna found herself alone with Alex one day and decided to speak her mind. "Hey Alex, I know you're determined to be the best dressed knight in Tortall, but do you really have to take fashion tips from Roger? He's evil!"

"He is not," Alex protested mysteriously. "You're just upset that he has more style than you do."

"Why would I care about that? I hate clothes!"

"It doesn't matter if you hate them or not." Alex drew his sword. "You insulted the King of Fashion, and therefore we must fight!"

Alanna whipped her sword out ferociously. "All right then! A manly duel! The winner is the more masculine one!" She fought with Alex for many long minutes, but found no victory. "Oh, come on. I thought you were a pansy!"

"Nobody insults the most stylish man in Tortall and gets away with it!" Alex hissed, striking at Alanna mercilessly.

"Holy crap!" cried Alanna. "You're trying to kill me, you lunatic!"

"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, we loot! Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!" came Myles's drunken singing voice. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!" He tripped over Faithful, who was napping on the floor, and stumbled right into Alex.

"Stupid alcoholic!" cried Alex. "This isn't the last you've seen from me, Alan!" And he faded into the shadows mysteriously.

Myles blinked dizzily. "I was on my way to a party. Want to help me get there, Alan? They're holding a giant Drink the Beer competition!"

Alanna grinned wickedly. "Sure, Myles." She put a blindfold on her teacher and pretended to lead him to the party, but in reality she took him to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. "This is my friend Myles and he needs some serious help."

"Hi, Myles!" the meeting goers chorused.

Alanna removed Myles's blindfold and shoved him into a chair. "Where's the party?" slurred Myles. "Anybody wanna pass me some ale?"

"No, my dear Myles," the group leader said cheerfully. "You've got a problem and we're here to fix it!"

Myles got up and started rummaging in people's pockets, looking for beer. "I don't have a problem. I'm just thirsty."

"The first step is admitting that you have a problem. Now admit it, I say! ADMIT IT!"

"Who wants to go play Drink the Beer?" Myles asked.

A dozen hands went up. "Ooh, I do! I do!" cried the other alcoholics.

"To the party!" Myles cried. And he led the other drunks off into the sunset, thus ruining Alcoholics Anonymous. _Forever._

* * *

"Newsflash, my homies and sistas," the king announced. "We're at war with Tusaine, so y'alls are going down to the river."

"And I shall be commanding!" said Roger. "Most stylishly, of course. First of all, the army's outfits have _got_ to go. Those are _so_ last year, people. Jazz it up and get with the times!"

Thanks to Roger's hip advice, everyone traveled to the river in true style. "Alex will be with me, of course," said Roger, winking trendily at Alex, "so he can help me with Fashion Police duties. Alan, go camp out with those rednecks over there!"

Alanna glared at Roger and stomped over to the redneck camp, where a possum was roasting over the fire. "Howdy, young'n!" said a big guy named Thor. "Hope ya like possum meat. Want some fresh made squirrel jerky?"

"No!" Alanna roared. "Beef jerky is the only REAL jerky for men!" She gnawed her beef jerky viciously.

"Why's we gotta fight a war?" asked the redneck boy who had once been in Alanna's classes. "War fightin' is fer city folks!"

"That there's a city folk!" said a jerk named Jem Tanner, pointing to Alanna. "I say we leave 'im out fer bear feed!"

"POSSUM'S DONE!" bellowed Thor.

All the rednecks were immediately distracted and gathered around for some possum meat. "Yee haw!" cried Jem Tanner, grabbing the biggest piece of meat. "Ma favorite!" He took a big bite and winced. "Aw, shucks. I lost me another tooth."

Everyone was busy down in the river. Myles had drunken parties with the soldiers, Roger and Alex were on the lookout for bad fashion, and Alanna kept the rednecks from eating too many squirrels and shooting all the gators. "FRANCIS!" Raoul screamed, but Gary hit him over the head before he could say anymore.

"That is getting _so_ old," Gary muttered. "Find a new catch phrase, Raoul."

"Hey Thor, I thought I heard a gator thrashin' in that there swamp yonder!" said Jem Tanner. "Why don't ya go keep watch?"

"Get 'er done!" Thor cried, and ran off to do as Jem said.

Five minutes later, Alanna ran around looking for Thor. "Yo Thor, where did you go? I've got that copy of Playhillbilly you wanted! The one with the naked girl posing on top of a tractor while milking a cow!" Suddenly she tripped over Thor's body. "Holy crap!"

"Alan," gasped Thor. "I'm dyin'. Them enemies done got me."

"I'm sorry I didn't eat your squirrel jerky!" Alanna sobbed, kneeling at his side.

Thor wheezed at her. "That's okay, Alan. You'll always be in this simple ol' heart of mine!" After those touching words, he died and went off to the great big barn in the sky.

"THOR!" roared Raoul. "I didn't say you could die like Francis! Come back here!"

Gary sighed. "Just face it, Raoul. You're always going to be lame."


	7. The Gender Confusion Continues

Three days later, Alanna woke up in a tent and found Jon sitting too close for comfort. "Jon, would you mind backing up a bit? There's a little thing called personal space and you're violating it right now."

"Well I've randomly decided that I'm desperately in love with you for no logical reason," said Jon. "So let's get it on, baby." He crawled onto the bed and kissed her.

Alanna pulled away. "Do you realize that you just kissed a girl who looks like a boy and who you believed to be a boy for four years?"

"I don't care if you're a he-she! I love you!"

Just as Jon started another make-out session with Alanna, Myles stumbled drunkenly into the tent in search of the tequila that was rumored to be hidden there. "Why hello there, lads," he slurred. "Mind if I join the party? Old Myles is still quite the party animal, you know!"

"Myles, is there ever a time when you're sober?" Alanna demanded.

"Nope! I'm drunk 24-7!"

Jon beat Myles over the head and shoved him out of the tent. "I want my tequila!" Myles cried, staggering off in a daze.

* * *

One night Alanna and Faithful were out all alone, sitting on the ground and playing cards. "Have you got any eights?" asked Alanna.

"Nope," said Faithful. "Go fish."

"DAMN IT!" Alanna roared like a lion. "I hate going fish!"

Suddenly Roger came sauntering by and interrupted their card game with his powerful fashion sense. "Oh great, it's you again," said Faithful. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? That outfit went out of date last century."

"Excuse me!" tutted the king of fashion. "You're one to talk! That collar you're wearing is totally out of style!"

"Roger, what do you want?" Alanna demanded masculinely. "You're wasting my time with your sissiness."

Roger sat down beside her and smirked. "You know, Alan, I could be a _very_ good friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alanna snarled, scooting away. "If you're trying to get me to follow your fashion advice, buddy, then prepare to be disappointed! I'll _never_ take your styling tips!"

"I was just trying to improve your look, Alan. Sheesh." Having had enough of Alanna's shenanigans, Roger got up and strolled fashionably away.

"What a sissy," Alanna muttered. "Hey Faithful, are you thirsty? I've got plenty of water here!" She took a huge swig and passed some water to her cat. "Is it just me, or does this taste like beer?"

"Definitely tastes like beer," said Faithful. "But we can't let it go to waste, can we?"

"You're right! Let's drink up!"

Half an hour later, Alanna and Faithful were both passed out.

* * *

"Oh, man…" Alanna groaned when she woke up the next day, rubbing her aching head. "What happened last night? Hope I didn't accidentally sleep with anybody." She realized that she was in a gingerbread house filled with candy and that a witch was stirring something in a giant pot.

"You're awake, dearie," the witch said with a man's voice. "I can't wait to see how you taste!"

Alanna realized that the witch was actually Duke Hilam of Tusaine! "Holy crap! Why are you dressed in old lady clothes and stirring that pot? Shouldn't you be fighting the war?"

"No, because I'm going to eat you," Duke Hilam replied. "I already ate Hansel and Gretel, but I'm still hungry for fresh child meat!" He pointed at some bones in the corner that belonged to Hansel and Gretal. "Hopefully you'll taste better than those pansies did."

"You'll never eat me, you fruitcake!" Alanna bellowed. "I'm too much man for you to handle!"

Duke Hilam laughed. "Yeah right, sonny. You're only a little boy, and I can't wait to see how you taste."

"I'll save you fair lady—I mean, lad!" cried Jon, bursting into the gingerbread house with his sword in hand. "Hand over Alan, you sissy of a duke!"

"What the deuce?" cried Duke Hilam. "How did you get in here?"

"Your house is made of gingerbread, you idiot. All my army had to do was eat the door."

Seeing her chance, Alanna shoved Duke Hilam into his cooking pot. "Ha, take that, loser! Hope your manhood shrivels up!"

"I'm melting!" screamed the duke. "I'm melting!"

"You all know what this means!" cried Jon, letting his army into the house.

"Free gingerbread! Hooray!"

"Come on, Alan, let's get on my horse and get out of here," said Jon, pulling Alanna towards his black horse. "Have I mentioned that I have a dark horse named Darkness?"

"Wow, now that's a creative name," Alanna said sarcastically. "What are you going to do when you have kids? Name them Prince Boy and Princess Girl?"

Jon chuckled at the very idea. "No, don't be silly. I'll simply name them Boy and Girl. It makes everything simpler!"

"You're an idiot."

* * *

After the war was over, Alanna grew more gender confused by the second and couldn't decide whether she wanted to be a boy or a girl! Fed up, she snuck out of the palace and visited Mistress Cooper. "Why howdy, George's mommy. I have a problem."

"Do you have diabeetus?" Mistress Cooper asked in an old man voice.

"No, you fool of a Cooper! I've decided that I want to be a cross-dressing boy, so get me some dresses."

Mistress Cooper cackled loudly. "You're turning _girly_."

"I am not! Look at these biceps!" Alanna flexed her muscles. "I'm so manly that all the hottest girls in the palace are after me!"

"Like that Delia hussy," hissed Alex, who was lurking around secretively. "Worst dressed woman in Corus, if you ask me. Did you see those white gloves she was wearing yesterday? Please, nobody wears white gloves anymore!"

Alanna glared at him. "Your shoes don't match your outfit, you know."

"The horror! The horror!" cried Alex. He immediately ran off to change his shoes.

Once Alex was gone, Alanna and Mistress Cooper resumed business. Alanna ditched her manly attire and got dolled up like a real girl for the first time in her life. "Holy crap in a bucket!" she yelled at her reflection. "I look like a total sissy. Thom would be so proud if he could see me now!"

"Oh Lucy, I'm home!" George called from outside. "And I've got a very special surprise for you."

"Great," muttered Mistress Cooper. "He'd better not have crabs again or I'll skin him alive." She opened the door and found George standing outside with Jon. "What's the meaning of this, George?"

"Well, mom, you seem kind of lonely since I don't have a dad," said George, "so I brought Jon home to meet you."

Jon shot a scandalized look at George. "You said you were bringing me here because your mom's handing out free cookies!"

"Unlike you, George, I'm not a pedo or a cradle robber," Mistress Cooper replied. "Go find Johnny someone his own age."

"Whatever, mom. Just trying to give you a love life." George entered the house and caught sight of Alanna. "Whoa, who is this stylish figure who oddly resembles Alanna? It must be her sissy brother Thom, trying on the latest outfits he created!"

"Alanna's twin brother is really fashionable," said Jon, gazing at Alanna in awe. "How come he never came to visit before?"

"You idiots!" bellowed Alanna. "I'm not Thom! I'm Alanna!"

George laughed. "You can't be Alanna. You're wearing a dress!"

"I'm too wise to be fooled by your tricks, Thom," said Jon. "Try it on someone else."

George took Jon's arm and led him away. "Come on, let's go. I need to ask the Dancing Dove barman if Seymour Butts is in town." Soon they were gone.

Mistress Cooper patted Alanna's arm in sympathy. "You just can't win."


	8. Roger is a Barbie Girl

"That stupid Prince Jonathan doesn't like me anymore," complained Delia, who had come to visit Roger in his rooms. She looked Roger over, impressed with his sense of style, and purred, "But who needs Jonathan? You'll make a fine replacement."

Roger waved an impatient hand at her. "Delia, would you do me a favor and quit trying to sleep with me? It ain't happening, sister. Not while you're in _that_ outfit."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" Delia cried.

"Oh please. You're wearing green. That color is o-u-t out this season! And that hair ribbon doesn't even go with your dress. Don't you know how to color coordinate?"

"Oh yeah?" said Delia. "Well just wait until I get on Tortall's Next Top Model! _Then_ we'll see who's the most stylish." Furious, she stopped out of the room muttering abuse at Roger.

Alex, who had been lurking around mysteriously, drifted out of the shadows. "You really don't think Tortall's Next Top Model will let her in, do you?" he asked worriedly.

"Nonsense," said Roger, chuckling. "That girl will be a laughingstock!"

* * *

Alanna's eighteenth birthday arrived, thus enabling her to do many delightful things that she couldn't do previously. "Oh boy!" cried Gary. "Now we can take you to the strip club! And you can buy cigarettes for our underage squires!"

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go!" Myles sang drunkenly. He put a six-pack of beer into Alanna's hands. "Happy legality, lad!"

"Myles, you give me beer every year!" Alanna yelled.

"Here's your first Playboy magazine, Alan," said Raoul, handing it to her.

"And your first volume of Convent Girls Gone Wild!" Alex added.

"You know those commercials that say you have to be eighteen or older to call?" said Alanna. "Now I can finally call and buy a bunch of useless crap!"

Jon coughed and nudged Alanna. "I think there's something you need to tell Gary."

"Oh yes, that's right. I really hate to tell you, Gary, but… well… you're adopted!"

"No, not that!" Jon hissed.

"Sorry!" said Alanna. "Gary, I've been meaning to tell you something. You really need to lose some weight, buddy. Why don't you lay off the Taco Bell for a while?"

"That's not it either, Alan!"

"Hey Gary? That haircut makes you look like a total fruitcake. I know, I know. Sometimes the truth hurts."

"Alan, you either get it right or you're sleeping on the couch!"

Alanna glared at Jon. "Fine then. Come on, Gary, let's have a private talk." She led a very confused Gary away from the others. "At last I must reveal my deepest, darkest secret. I'm really a girl!"

Gary blinked. "Alan, I've always known you're small down there, but you don't have to go _that_ far with the excuses."

"I'm telling the truth, you fool! I'm a girl disguised as a boy!"

"Oh yeah?" Gary taunted. "Well where are your boobies?"

"They're hiding."

"Show them to me. I won't believe it until I see it."

Alanna turned red with manly rage. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm not showing you anything!"

"Why not?"

"You know, I've never seen Gary Jr. That must mean it doesn't exist."

An uncomfortable silence ensued. "You've got a point," Gary admitted. "But can I have just a peek? Pretty please? I'd like to have some solid proof!"

"Oh, all right." Alanna let him have the tiniest, fastest peek.

"I can't believe it's not butter!" Gary cried.

Alanna stared at him. "Okay. I'm going to pretend you didn't just make that random outburst."

When it was time for Alanna's ordeal of knighthood, she had to take a bath while Jon and Gary sat outside and pretended not to peek at her. "So the melons _are_ real!" Gary whispered in awe. "They're delicious!"

"Gary, I heard you!" Alanna roared angrily.

"What? I'm just talking about these watermelons!" Gary held up a tasty melon slice.

"Get a load of those hooters," Jon hissed in Gary's ear five minutes later. "Aren't they huge?"

"Jon!" Alanna bellowed viciously. "I heard that!"

"I was showing Gary the big owls that are outside! Quit jumping to conclusions!"

Gary nudged Jon. "Check out that rack. Impressive, eh?"

"GARY!" Alanna screamed.

"I'm talking about the deer that's standing outside the window!"

"Mithros, is she stacked or what?" hissed Jon. "I ought to grab me some of those!"

"Enough already!" Alanna hollered.

"Geez, it's only a servant woman carrying a huge stack of books! I should help her when this is over."

Alanna finally finished her manly bath and quickly threw her clothes on before two pairs of eyes could stare at her. "All right, you sissies! Instruct me in the knight's code so I can be the manliest man of them all!"

"Macho macho man!" Jon and Gary sang together. "You've got to be a macho man!"

"Is that all?"

Gary shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. You also have to help little old ladies cross the street, but that's not important. Now get your gender-confused booty into that chamber, girlfriend!"

Alanna hustled into the Chamber like a good little he-she and waited for her Ordeal. Suddenly she saw Roger parading around with the most stylish, totally trendy crown upon his fashionable head. "As king of Tortall, I dictate your fashion!" he said fabulously. "If you're not totally hip, you'll be executed!"

"Isn't there more to life than fashion?" asked Alanna.

"Of course not, sister!" huffed Roger. "Where on earth did you get those clothes? I'll have none of that in my fab kingdom!"

Before Alanna could go bezerk and kick some male diva ass, the vision faded and her Ordeal ended. "Thank goodness that's over with. Now I demand a pizza party to celebrate my heroics!"

Alanna was knighted like a true manly man and everyone celebrated. Thom, who had just arrived at the palace, glared at everyone as he stalked over to his sister and thrust something into her arms. "Here, I sewed you a new outfit. Every stitch was made to perfection, so you'd better appreciate it."

"Dear Mithros, every stitch _is_ made to perfection," said Roger, seething with jealousy as he studied Alanna's new outfit. "That young Thom is more dangerous than I thought!"

Thom smirked at Roger. "I knitted my first scarf when I was two and a half years old."

"No!" Roger gasped in horror.

Bored with this diva battle, Alanna left Thom to harass the king of fashion and snuck off to Roger's room when no one was looking. "I've always wanted to know what kind of shampoo Roger uses," said Alanna. "I bet he's a giant hypocrite and buys it from the dollar store."

"Roger's an even bigger sissy than I thought," Faithful remarked. "Look at those Barbie dolls over there!"

"He and Thom have something in common," said Alanna, laughing as she looked at the Barbies. "This is positively gold. I've got to show the whole palace so they can laugh at Roger!" She scooped up all the Barbie dolls and ran back to the party. "Newsflash, everyone! Roger plays with dolls!"

"Oh, don't go there, girlfriend!" tutted Roger. "That's simply preposterous!"

"Oh yeah? Then why did I find these in your room?" Alanna held up the Barbies for all to see.

Roger waved his fabulous hand at her impatiently. "Whatever. You're just trying to frame me because you're jealous of my hip style!"

"Yeah right, you wuss! They were in your room!"

"It's true!" cried Delia, pointing angrily at Roger. "I saw the dolls in his room with my own eyes!"

The king chortled with glee. "I always knew Roger would turn out like this. Remember how he used to try on the queen's dresses when he was little?"

Roger turned red with stylish rage. "That's it, Alan. You're going down!" He slashed at Alanna's clothes, revealing her girly chest.

"Holy crap!" said Delia. "His man boobs are gigantic!"

"They're even bigger than mine!" cried Raoul.

"Alan, have you ever considered reduction surgery?" asked the king. "Those things could put someone's eye out!"

"I can't wait to taste those sweet coconuts," said Jon dreamily.

Alanna smacked him. "How dare you!"

"What? Gary's got two coconuts in his hands!" Jon pointed to Gary, who indeed carried coconuts.

"Ahem!" said Roger stylishly. "What about my epic duel with the large breasted lad?"

To make a long story short, Alanna ripped up Roger's pretty clothes and killed the fabulous duke. "Well, my work here is done," she said. "By the way, I'm actually a girl! Fooled you all, suckers!"

"FRANCIS!" wailed Raoul. "I never said you could be fooled by Alan's disguise! I'm disappointed in you, young man!"


	9. Everyone is Corrupted!

Alanna, who was now the only cross-dressing knight in Tortall, frolicked around the desert with her drunken servant Coram and her faithful cat named Faithful. "Are we there yet?" Coram slurred drunkenly. "I need me another tequila." He swayed in his horse saddle and finally fell off into the sand. "Hurhurhur."

"Too bad Myles ruined Alcoholics Anonymous with his drunken antics," Alanna growled in a manly way. "Otherwise I would send you to a meeting right now, you beer-obsessed fool!"

Coram ignored her and started to sing about how he was too sexy for his shirt. He sat up in the sand and started to unbutton his actual shirt, revealing his chest.

Faithful immediately covered his eyes. "Eew. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks. Button that back up, loser!"

"Coram, you're embarrassing me!" Alanna roared. "This is why I never invited any friends over when I was a kid. Between Thom's habit of knitting scarves and your drunken strip teases, my friends would have been scarred for life!"

Coram had now stripped his shirt off and was twirling it around in the air, continuing to sing to himself. "You idiot!" Faithful told the alcoholic. "Look what you've done! Your bad singing attracted those hillmen over there, and now they want to kill us!"

"Holy crap!" cried Alanna. "Coram, get off your drunken ass and fight those knaves!"

But Coram was too intoxicated and quickly passed out, letting his shirt fall into his lap. Alanna sighed and whipped out her sword so she could kick some hillmen booty. One of the hillmen attacked her with a fashionable crystal sword, which glittered trendily beneath the sun, and Alanna was horrified when she realized the sword reminded her of Roger's super-stylish wizard's rod. "Where did you get that sword?" she demanded.

"What, this old thing?" said the hillman, waving the crystal sword around. "I found it at a garage sale. Pretty, isn't it?"

"No, it makes you look like a sissy!" Alanna roared. "What kind of self-respecting man uses a _crystal_ sword, anyway? Might as well get some diamond earrings and a tiara to go with it."

"Don't go there, girlfriend!" cried the hillman. Furious, he hacked at Alanna's sword and broke it. "Who's the sissy now?"

Suddenly a group of Bazhir came riding up and destroyed all the hillmen. "Yo, we're from the Bloody Hawk tribe," said Halef Seif, the headman. "Sounds kinda gross, doesn't it? I mean, who would want to call themselves after a dying bird?"

"Dude, seriously," said Alanna. "You could have called yourselves the Strong Hawk instead. Or the Majestic Hawk. Or the Hawk-That-Isn't-Covered-in-Blood."

"The guy who named the tribe was drunk at the time," said Halef Seif. "Just like that guy over there." He pointed at Coram, who was snoring in the sand. Suddenly he noticed the crystal sword and gasped. "That sword! I sense a great evil coming from it. The evil of... _fashion_."

"Finally!" said Alanna. "It's about time I meet somebody who hates fashion as much as I do!"

"Girl, we run around in sandals and robes. Of course we don't care about fashion." Halef Seif kicked some sand over the crystal sword, burying its stylish evilness. "You can come hang out with our tribe, but first you have to participate in a rap battle in order to become one of us. If you win the battle, we won't slaughter you and roast you over our campfire."

"Sounds fair enough," said Alanna.

After Halef Seif helped her drag Coram to the Bazhir camp and put him to bed, everyone gathered around the fire to watch the rap battle. A random Bazhir named Hakim strode forward and stood before Alanna. "Yo, yo, I'm Hakim the Bazhir, I ain't got no fear. I keep it real in the sand, always full of sass, 'cause your pansy Northern king don't own my ass! _What_."

Alanna responded with, "Yo, the name's Alanna, from Trebond I hail. My people are winners and yours are full of _fail_. Little girls wanna be me, conservatives are scared of me, and I got two fellas who say they wanna marry me. I killed the King of Fashion just as easy as pie, and if you mess around with me you'll be the next one to die!"

Hakim was too frightened by Alanna's threats to continue any further, so Alanna was declared winner of the rap battle. "This is impossible!" yelled a crazy old man named Akhnan Ibn Nazzir. "This cross-dressing wench has corrupted you all with her trouser-wearing ways! Next thing you know, all our women will be in pants and our men will be in dresses!"

"Nonsense, old man," said Halef Seif. "None of us are going to turn into cross-dressers!"

"Corruption!" Ibn Nazzir yelled at no one in particular. "You'll all be corrupted, I say! Corrupted!"

"Whatever, dude," said Alanna. "All this rapping has made me thirsty." She found a convenient water bottle on the ground and drank from it.

"That water has been corrupted!" cried Ibn Nazzir.

Alanna sat down in the sand and decided to take a nap.

"The sand has been corrupted too!" Ibn Nazzir shrieked hysterically. "We will ALL be corrupted!"

Meanwhile, Raoul was somewhere in Corus yelling, "FRANCIS! I didn't say you could be corrupted! You go back to normal _right now_!"

* * *

The next day Alanna was chilling with her brand-new Bazhir pals, talking about magic with the youngsters, when she heard somebody murmuring to himself in the distance. "It's _mine_. My own, my love, my _precioussss._ "

"What was that?" asked Alanna.

"Sounds like Akhnan Ibn Nazzir," said one of the Bazhir kids. "He's totally senile. We really ought to put him in a nursing home or something."

Alanna decided to investigate and found Ibn Nazhir kneeling in the sand, stroking the crystal sword. "My precious," he murmured to the sword, gazing at it with rapturous eyes. "My _precioussssssss._ "

"Are you having a love affair with an inanimate object?" Alanna asked. "Boy, now I've seen everything."

"Don't you dare look at our precious, you cross-dressing demon!" said Ibn Nazzir, hiding the crystal sword behind his back. "It's ours! We found it!"

"We?" said Alanna, raising an eyebrow. "Holy crap, you really _are_ senile."

"Why does it keep talking to us, precious?" Ibn Nazzir said to his sword. "Why does it try to corrupt us? We hates it!"

"Whatever, man. Hope you and that sword have fun on your romantic date."

Alanna left Ibn Nazzir alone, though she could still hear him muttering to himself and calling the sword his precious. Ibn Nazzir soon threw away his robes, so that only his loincloth remained, and started eating raw birds that he caught himself. "Dude, we really need to find a nursing home," said Halef Seif, shaking his head.

* * *

"Why does it smell like cats around here?" Alanna randomly wondered.

"Because I'm _baaaack_!" said Ali Mukhtab, the crazy cat man that Alanna met in Persopolis. "And look, I've got some new cats since the last time you saw me. This one's Ali Baba, and Ali #3, and Big Ali, and Ali the Lord of All Kitty Cats, and oh! This last one is named Ali-na! Like Alanna, but with Ali in it!"

"Uh, thanks," said Alanna. "I'm very flattered that you named your cat after me."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Ali, suddenly turning serious. "Because I'm dying, and somebody is going to have to take care of my 10,000 cats when I'm no longer around to feed them. Before I die, I must train a new Voice of the Cats to take my place!"

"There's no way I'm taking care of 10,000 cats!" Alanna roared. "Faithful is bad enough!"

Ali Mukhtab chuckled at Alanna's outburst. "You silly girl. Of course I'm not going to have _you_ inherit my precious little furballs. I've already written up my will, and it's been decided that your friend Jonathan will look after my kitties!"

"Wait, _what_?" said Alanna. "Jon doesn't know anything about cats!"

"Oh really?" said Mukhtab. "Then why did he ask me to compile a History of Bazhir Cats when I saw him in Persopolis? Why does he sleep with a stuffed kitten called Mr. Fluffles? Why does he take part in the annual Cat Lovers' Convention held in Corus every summer? Prince Jonathan is a devoted cat lover, young lady, and soon he's going to inherit all the cats in the desert!"

"This tribe keeps getting weirder and weirder," Alanna muttered.


	10. How To Be a Macho Man

Akhnan Ibn Nazzir was watching Alanna cook some breakfast over a fire. "That food is corrupted, my precious!" he hissed to his fabulous crystal sword.

Alanna ate her breakfast and gave one of the Bazhir tribesmen a high-five.

"That man is corrupted!" Ibn Nazzir wailed.

Someone's dog came up to Alanna and licked her hand.

"CORRUPTION!" Ibn Nazzir cried. "We're all being corrupted, precious! We hates that nasty cross-dresser!" He retreated into a dark corner, wearing nothing but his loincloth, and stroked the crystal sword.

"I'm getting really sick of that old coot and his senile ravings!" Alanna roared. "Somebody needs to put that geezer in a home already!"

"We tried," said Kourrem, one of the kids who followed Alanna around. "But Ibn Nazzir just spat at us and started muttering about his precious. Then he said the nursing home was corrupted and set it on fire."

"That nursing home _is_ corrupted!" wailed Ibn Nazzir, who had somehow been eavesdropping. "The cross-dresser will corrupt you all and steal our precioussss!"

Alanna growled in a ferocious manner. "This is getting ridiculous. Isn't there _anyone_ who can make this crazy old geezer behave himself?"

"Don't ask me," said Ali Mukhtab, who was lying in bed surrounded by several of his cats. "I'm too busy dying and spending time with my furballs." He scratched one of the cats behind the ears. "Have I mentioned that this one is named Prince Ali-nathan? It's like Prince Jonathan plus Ali!"

"I'm a little disturbed by that," said Alanna. "And don't you _dare_ say that cat is corrupted!" she added, scowling at Ibn Nazzir.

"We weren't going to say anything, precious!" he spat at her.

"He really needs to do something about that speech impediment," said Kara, one of the other kids who followed Alanna around.

"And that loincloth," added Faithful. "There's a little thing called indecent exposure, buddy!"

"I've had enough of this nonsense," Alanna declared. "I swear if I hear the word 'precious' one more time, I'm going to shove my boot up somebody's windpipe! Now let's settle this once and for all, you miserable old coot." She marched over to Ibn Nazzir, who was gazing adoringly at his crystal sword, and put her bare hands on his wrinkled old skin. Ibn Nazzir began to shriek.

"It burnsss us!" he hissed. "Wicked cross-dresser corrupts us!"

"How would you like to wear a nice dress, Ibn Nazzir?" Alanna threatened. "A beautiful pink ball gown with tassels and bows. Maybe some sequined high heels and a sparkly purse to go with it."

"STOP!" Ibn Nazzir cried, clamping his hands over his ears. "It kills us!"

"And you know what would _really_ look dazzling on you?" Alanna dropped her voice to a dangerous whisper. "Some nice scarlet lipstick."

"NOOOO!"

Suddenly a puff of smoke erupted and Ibn Nazzir was gone, never to return.

"That was too easy," said Faithful. "And look, he left his precious behind!"

The crystal sword lay glittering in the sand, looking much trendier and more fabulous than all the other tacky weapons in the desert. When Alanna picked up the sword, she could have sworn she heard Roger's voice say, "Don't go there, girlfriend!" but she must have been imagining it.

"Well, looks like you're the village shaman now, Alanna," said Halef Seif. "Congrats! And as a bonus prize, you have to train those three kiddos who have been following you around this whole time. Lucky you! They happen to be the three wimpiest kids in the village."

"It's true," said the boy, Ishak, letting out a forlorn sigh. "I've always been a wuss. The little girls in the village are always giving me wedgies and asking me why I'm hitting myself. It's so cruel!"

"Then from this day forward," Alanna growled, "I'm going to whip you sissies into shape!"

* * *

A few hours later, Kara, Kourrem, and Ishak, the wimpiest kids in the village, were cowering in the sand while Alanna marched up and down in a pair of combat boots. Alanna blew a loud blast on a whistle, making the kids jump.

"All right, ladies!" she roared, ignoring the fact that Iskak was a boy. "If you want to be manly men, first you have to develop manly habits! I want you all to take these strips of beef jerky and gnaw on them as ferociously as you can."

She handed out beef jerky to the three kids. Kara started to nibble slowly on her piece and Alanna blew the whistle again.

"WRONG!" she bellowed. "Real men don't nibble their jerky. You've got to _tear_ into it, like this." She demonstrated by ripping into the jerky with her teeth.

"I think I've got the hang of it!" said Kourrem. She gnawed on her beef jerky in a somewhat manly way.

"Keep practicing!" Alanna shouted. "Only real men get ahead in life! I used to know this kid named Francis and he was a total wuss. This kid was such a sissy, he got completely sweaty and couldn't handle the sheer manliness of it, so he died. Don't end up like Francis!"

Meanwhile, Raoul was riding his horse through the woods and cried, "FRANCIS! I didn't say you could be a wimp!"

Gary threw his hands in the air. "Dear Mithros, will it _ever_ stop? I need to find Raoul a new catchphrase."

Back in the desert, Alanna continued her manliness training. "Your next lesson in manliness is beer drinking," she roared to the three wimpy kids. "Once you have mastered the art of gnawing on beef jerky, I want you all to guzzle down a six-pack! The first one to pass out gets a wedgie! Do you understand?"

Ishak shuddered. "Not another wedgie! I can't take anymore!" He managed to guzzle down his six-pack of beer without passing out, though he did get so drunk that he tried dancing a waltz with Faithful and got his face scratched. Kara and Kourrem were both puking in the sand.

"I suppose that's enough manliness for one day," said Alanna. "But I want you up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to do some pushups!"

* * *

When Alanna went to bed that night, she found herself dreaming about the most glamorous corpse in all of Tortall. She saw Roger's body in her dream, dressed fabulously in a robe that perfectly matched his shoes, and was annoyed that his hair was as lustrous as ever. She never did manage to find out what shampoo he used.

Suddenly, Roger's corpse opened his eyes. "Boo!" he shouted. "Where did you find those clothes, girlfriend? The thrift store? I might have been dead all this time, but fashion doesn't sleep!"

Alanna was so horrified, she woke up and started screaming.

Ishak poked his head into her tent. "I thought real men didn't scream," he pointed out obnoxiously.

"You want a wedgie, twerp?" Alanna roared.

Ishak squealed and ran off.

To make matters even worse, Alanna soon received a letter from her brother Thom, who had moved into the palace and was rapidly becoming Corus' expert on sewing, embroidery, and interior decorating. The queen gave him a massive reward after he completely redecorated her bedroom and advised her to change her outdated hairdo.

 _Dear Alanna_ , (Thom wrote)

_The palace is full of idiots. That girl Delia who used to hang around Roger keeps making the most horrendous fashion mistakes, the stupid girl. I wanted to gouge my eyes out when she showed up for dinner in a red dress with an orange hair ribbon. It totally clashed! Delia's useful, though. In exchange for my fashion tips, she's promised to show me where Roger hid all of his beauty secrets, including his shampoo. Soon I'll have the silkiest hair in Corus._

_I heard you've been living with a bunch of desert men lately. Don't you know how tacky they are? I'd rather set myself on fire than wear robes and sandals all the time. How can you stand it? Anyway, I've been consoling myself by burning all of Roger's old clothes. Fashions have changed since you killed him. If you ever decide to jazz up the desert tribesmen, you know who to call._

_Love, Thom_

"And _this_ , kiddies," said Alanna, showing Thom's letter to Kara, Kourrem, and Ishak, "is exactly what you DON'T want to be!"


	11. The Voice of the Cats

Alanna's lessons in manliness were going well for the most part. Kara and Kourrem had now become experts at gnawing beef jerky, doing pushups, and chugging six-packs. Ishak, on the other hand, still earned the occasional wedgie and kept sneaking looks at the crystal sword. "Why don't you ever use that thing?" he asked Alanna. "It's so fabulous!"

"Exactly," Alanna growled. "It's much too fashionable to be wielded by anyone manly. Fashion is _evil_."

"Well I think it's totally unfair that you'd let such a glamorous sword go to waste," said Ishak. "Isn't it possible to be manly _and_ fabulous?"

"Never!" cried Alanna. "Stay away from that sword!"

Ishak wouldn't listen, though. "I think Alanna's full of crap," he muttered to himself. "Being fabulous _obviously_ gives you power. She just wants all the power for herself!" As soon as Alanna's back was turned, he snuck into her tent and grabbed the crystal sword. "It's so beautiful!" he whispered in an unmanly way. "It's too bad it clashes with my outfit, though."

The sword started to glow and Ishak thought he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Roger. "How _tacky_!" the voice huffed. "Don't you know that sandals have never been fashionable? Put me down this instant!"

"But I just want to be fabulous," Ishak sobbed.

"Stop touching me!" cried the voice from the sword. "I might catch your tackiness!"

Ishak only clutched the sword harder, which made the sword angrier. Unable to deal with Ishak's bad fashion sense, the sword took matters into its own hands and caused Ishak to explode. Alanna heard the noise and ran into her tent, where the crystal sword was glittering trendily on the floor as if nothing had happened.

"Crap," said Alanna. "I was planning to give that kid the atomic wedgie of a lifetime."

* * *

Sometime after the fiasco with Ishak, Jon and Myles arrived in the desert so that Jon could take over the position as Voice of the Cats. To prepare for this extremely important role, Jon was wearing a T-shirt from the annual Cat Lover's Convention (held in Corus every September!) and had brought along his stuffed kitten named Mr. Fluffles. Myles was chugging a bottle of wine and immediately fell out of his saddle. "Ossifer, there's no bottle in that wine," he slurred. "I swear it."

The moment Myles passed out, Corum snatched the wine bottle and ran off with it.

"Ah, Jonathan, you're here at last!" said Ali Mukhtab, who had a cat riding on each shoulder. "Let me introduce you to my 10,000 cuddly little furballs. This one right here is Ali, and this is Ali #2 and here's Muhammed Ali and Little Ali and Ali Jr. and Ali the Lord of All Kitty Cats and Ali #3 and …" Two hours later he finally pointed to the very last cat. "And my personal favorite, Prince Ali-nathan!"

Alanna and every one else had fallen asleep at this point, but Jon was gazing at the cats with big, rapturous eyes. "I'll adore every single one of them!" he promised. "Just like I adore Mr. Fluffles!" He gave his stuffed cat Mr. Fluffles an affectionate hug.

Alanna woke up and immediately rolled her eyes at this preposterous display. "Jon, you've been sleeping with that stuffed cat since you were three years old. Shouldn't you throw that thing in the trash already?"

Jon let out a huge gasp. "How can you say such a thing when I came all the way out here to marry you?"

"Wait, what? I never agreed to get married! You're bossy and pushy and your clothes are covered in cat hair."

"But I love you," Jon sobbed in an unmanly way, getting down on his knees in the sand.

"Why don't you marry Mr. Fluffles instead? I'm sure he'd make a much better queen."

"Maybe I _will_ marry Mr. Fluffles! He doesn't give me any sass, do you, Mr. Fluffles? You're a good little kitty, aren't you? At least I know _you'll_ always love me." Jon started cuddling his stuffed cat and walked away, throwing a glare at Alanna over his shoulder.

"Marriage is for sissies, anyway," Alanna declared.

She was about to walk off so she could hole herself up in the safety of her tent, but Myles woke up from his wine-induced stupor and stumbled his way over to her. "You know, Alanna, I've been thinking long and hard about the perfect gift to give you on your next birthday, and it occurred to me that I know _exactly_ what you need."

"What is it?" said Alanna.

Myles gave a huge grin. "A FATHER!"

"WHAT?"

"Don't you think I'd make the perfect daddy?"

"Myles, you're drunk," said Alanna. "Why don't you sober up and we'll talk later?"

"I'm serious!" said Myles. "I've always wanted a son."

"I'm a girl, Myles. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah. That's right."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Alanna finally shrugged and said, "Screw it, let's do this! I've always wanted a chronic alcoholic for a father!"

And so Myles and Alanna skipped off into the sunset so that Alanna could be adopted. Meanwhile, somewhere in the palace of Corus, Raoul took a deep breath and opened his mouth to start shouting, but Gary quickly jabbed him in the chest before he could speak.

"No, Raoul!" he cried. "Don't even start!"

Raoul stared at him blankly. "Don't start what?"

"Your wailing about Francis! It's always Francis this and Francis that, over and over again! That kid's been dead for _years_ , Raoul. I don't even remember what he looked like!"

Raoul continued to stare blankly. "I was going to announce that I love apple pie."

Gary gaped at him. "You were?"

"Yeah, until you rudely interrupted me! Jeez, Gary, I don't talk about Francis _all_ the time. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to announce to the entire world that I LOVE APPLE PIE. Thank you."

* * *

Once Jon managed to stop pouting over Alanna's reluctance to marry him, he couldn't help noticing the crystal sword she kept hidden in her tent. "You know, this sword reminds me an awful lot of Roger," he remarked, reaching out to stroke the sword. "Did you know he used to make jewelry when he was younger?"

" _Jewelry_?" said Alanna. "I always knew Roger was a total fruitcake, but this takes his pansiness to a new level!"

Jon glared at her. "He was very talented, Alanna. He handcrafted these diamond earrings I've got on."

"Why in the name of Mithros' underwear are you wearing diamond earrings, Jon?"

"They compliment the diamond buckles on my riding boots, of course. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Roger made this crystal sword. If you hadn't killed him, he could have crafted us some fabulous weddings rings."

"Damn it, Jon, we're not getting married!" Alanna roared. "Imagine how we'd look walking down the aisle. With your diamond earrings and my manly breeches, people would call us King Alanna and Queen Jonathan!"

Jon looked heartbroken. "They _already_ call me Queen Jonathan. Alex caught me trying on my mom's tiara and told the entire palace. He said I looked tacky."

"Don't you have a cat meeting with Ali Mukhtab?" Alanna growled.

"You're right, I do!" Jon admired his reflection in the blade of the crystal sword, then dashed off to the tent where Ali Mukhtab was dying surrounded by all of his 10,000 cats.

"Prince Jonathan, you've arrived," said Mukhtab. "Are you ready to be inducted into the Hall of Cat Lovers?"

"Of course!" said Jon. "I put on my special underwear to celebrate the occasion. See? It's got little kitty cats patterned all over it."

Mukhtab admired Jon's cat-patterned underwear. "Very nice. Now let's begin! Do you, Jonathan of Conte, pledge to love cats above all other creatures until the day you die?"

"I do," Jon said solemnly.

"Do you swear to keep this desert flourishing with catnip, scratching posts, and mouse toys?"

"I do!"

"Do you know the muffin man?"

"Only if he's a cat lover!"

"Then you pass the test," said Mukhtab. "And I hereby announce that you, Jonathan of Conte, have been officially inducted into the Bazhir Hall of Cat Lovers. I now name you Lord of the Desert Felines, Champion of Furballs, and Voice of the Cats!"

After making this important announcement, Ali Mukhtab promptly died, leaving Jon to inherit all the cats in the desert.

* * *

"Now that I'm the Voice of the Cats," Jon said to Alanna, "we really should think about planning our wedding soon. I'm thinking about doing a Cinderella theme. Maybe your brother Thom can make me some glass slippers!"

Alanna stared at him

"Um, so I can give them to _you_ , of course!"

"Jon—"

"But you'd let me borrow them, wouldn't you? Just once? I promise I won't break them."

"JON!" Alanna roared with manly rage. "I already told you I want no part of your sissy wedding! Are you deaf?"

"I thought you were joking!"

"Go home, Jon," Alanna growled. "You'll have to borrow those pansy slippers from someone else."

"Fine, I will!"

Jon immediately returned home to Corus so he could rage and sulk, and was quickly confronted by Alex and Delia, who were both extremely upset.

"You've got to get rid of Thom," said Alex, who had been lurking secretively in the shadows waiting for Jon's return. "He tried to burn my vest because he said it didn't go with my eyes! Roger gave me this vest himself!"

"And Thom said my earrings make me look like an idiot," Delia complained. "Roger used to love these earrings!"

"Well, I suppose Thom knows best…" Jon said cautiously.

"He has no right to criticize us," Delia huffed. "Yesterday I saw Thom wearing a coat with orange embroidery on it. It clashed with his red hair!"

"Delia, for once in your pathetic life I actually agree with you," said Alex. "Thom is ruining the entire palace. He should be banished."

"Now relax, you two," said Jon. "I can't just banish someone for giving advice. Thom has worked wonders with the interior decorating around here. Have you seen the stylish curtains he installed in my bedroom?"

"Screw your bedroom curtains," said Delia. "Thom is full of himself because Roger's not here to tell him he's wrong. The only way to solve this problem is to bring Roger back!"

"Which is impossible, of course," said Alex, smirking secretively. "Or _is_ it?"

Jon didn't get a chance to respond, since Queen Lianne showed up with a strange girl holding an axe. "Jonny, I've got a surprise for you!" the queen announced. "This is Princess Josiane from the Copper Isles."

Josiane stroked the handle of her axe. "Hello, Jonathan. I may be a princess, but I'm quite an accomplished lumberjack. I'm also skilled in the art of slicing and dicing vegetables!" She demonstrated by chopping up the vegetables with her axe, then proceeded to sauté them in a skillet.

Jon was gazing at her in awe. "Um… Do you like cats?"

"Oh yes," said Josiane, staring lovingly at her axe. "Especially their soft little necks."

"Wonderful! Let's get engaged!"


	12. Beauty Secrets

Alanna decided she was sick of the desert and rode with Coram and Faithful to the city of Port Caynn, where George was hiding out to escape Thom's tyranny over Corus fashion. Thanks to Thom's influence at court, brown breeches and vests were strictly banned. "Open up in there!" Alanna roared, banging on the door of George's house.

George's prostitute cousin Rispah opened the door. "Why hello there, sonny," she said, winking at Alanna. "How about you make like a pirate and find my buried treasure?"

"Dude, I'm a girl now," said Alanna. "Knock it off!"

"I wouldn't mind putting my sword in your scabbard," said Coram, leering at Rispah.

Rispah leered back at him. "You can whip out your sword anytime you like, mister."

"Coram, you're embarrassing me!" Alanna bellowed. "I didn't come all the way out here so you could get lucky with some redheaded hussy!"

"Getting lucky with a redhead sounds like an awfully nice idea," said George, who had appeared in the doorway. He winked at Alanna. "You're over eighteen now, aren't you, foxy lady? Why don't we get it on already?"

Alanna considered George's offer. "I have to admit, you're a lot more appealing than Jon. Last time we were in bed together, he started to try on my bra when he thought I was asleep! It'd be nice to hop in bed with a REAL man for once."

"Excellent," said George. "I've always wanted to see those hooters."

"GEORGE!" Alanna roared.

"What?" said George. "There's a beautiful pair of owls roosting in that tree over there. I've been trying to catch sight of them for days!"

Meanwhile, while Alanna and George were getting it on, Thom had a problem with Delia. He stalked through the palace, scowling at everyone in his path, and made a young squire cry when he told him his tunic made him look fat. At last he barged into Delia's rooms and caught her flipping through an old issue of _Tortall Vogue_. Roger was featured on the cover wearing last year's hottest fashions.

"What do you want?" Delia demanded. "Have you come to tell me that my shoes are the wrong color?"

Thom glared at her. "You've been teasing me, Delia. All this time you've been dropping hints, suggesting that you can find all of Roger's beauty secrets. You still haven't told me what shampoo he used!"

"I tried to find out," said Delia. "But Roger hid all his secrets better than I thought!"

"Even _I_ couldn't find out what shampoo he used," said Alex, who had been lurking in the shadows. "Believe, me, I've tried."

"There's only one way to discover the secret of Roger's silky-soft hair," said Delia, gazing adoringly at the cover of her magazine. "You'll have to bring him back to life, Thom. You're the only one powerful enough to get those secrets out of him!"

Thom was still scowling. "I'll consider it."

"ROGER!" wailed Raoul, who was eavesdropping out in the hall. "I never told you to keep that shampoo a secret!"

"Are you kidding me?" said Gary. " _Roger?_ You're wailing about _Roger_ now?"

"Well you get so annoyed every time I mention Francis," Raoul said sheepishly. "So I decided to shout about somebody else."

"How about you just keep your mouth shut from now on, Raoul? I'm sure everyone is thoroughly sick of this by now."

"How about you keep _your mom_ shut from now on?" Raoul huffed.

"That's doesn't make sense."

"ROGER!" Raoul screamed in Gary's ear. "FRANCIS! OSCAR MEYER WEINERS!"

Gary sighed and walked away from him. "I don't know why I bother."

* * *

"Holy crap, I'm completely exhausted," said Alanna. "And it has nothing to do with all this banging me and George have been doing lately."

"Your sissy brother's getting up to powerful shenanigans in Corus," said Faithful. "He borrowed a bunch of your magic."

"What powerful shenanigans could that pansy possibly be doing?" said Alanna. "Does he need extra strength to wield his knitting needles? Is he throwing a massive tea party? Whatever. I'm thinking about going back to the desert anyway."

"Hey, wait a minute!" said George. "I thought we had something special!"

"Special?" Alanna scoffed. "If you call climbing on top of me and falling asleep five minutes later _special_ , then sure, George. I've been having a blast! But it's time for me to go back to the desert and whip some more sissies into shape. Come on, Coram, let's get out of here!"

"Aw, come on, Alanna," said Coram. "I'm a little busy finding Rispah's buried treasure."

"You've been in that woman's treasure chest since we got here! A little celibacy won't kill you."

"Looks like I'm back to my old friend the liquor bottle," Coram said mournfully, popping the lid off a bottle of ale. "See ya later, Rispah."

George helped Alanna pack her things and waved farewell. "I'm sure going to miss those jugs."

"GEORGE!" bellowed Alanna.

"What? My favorite clay jugs got broken!" said George, pointing to some smashed pottery on the ground. "I used to keep my orange juice in them!"

"Whatever," said Alanna. "Have fun finding a new place to sheathe your sword!"

* * *

While Alanna and Coram went galloping off to the desert, George started to have problems with a thief who called himself Claw. "What a dumb name," George remarked. "Does this guy think he's a cat or something?" He strolled into the Dancing Dove and said to the barman, "I'm looking for a man named Ben. Last name is Dover."

"Ben Dover!" the barman shouted. "I need Ben Dover!"

"And while you're at it, can you find Mr. Hertz for me? His first name's Dick."

"Dick Hertz!" yelled the barman. "Where's Dick Hertz? I need Dick Hertz and Ben Dover!"

Once George managed to stop chuckling to himself, he asked, "But most importantly, I really need to talk to a guy named Claw. I heard he's really ugly, has one eye, and has an annoying habit of making Yo Mama jokes. Seen him around?"

"Yeah," said the barman. "He's sitting right over there in the corner."

George bought himself an ale and went over to sit by Claw, who was in desperate need of plastic surgery. "Howdy there, neighbor," said George. "I heard you're thinking about taking my throne."

Claw smirked at him. "Yeah, so what? Yo mama so ugly she makes blind kids cry."

"That's awfully hypocritical coming from _you_. Why do you want to be king of the thieves so badly? Can't you be king of the sideshow freaks instead? I'm sure any circus in Tortall would be dying to take you."

"Yeah, well yo mama so stupid she got hit by a parked car!" Claw retorted.

"Dude, you can't have my throne, all right?"

"Yo mama so fat she has to buy two airline tickets!" Claw yelled.

"Don't you have any other comebacks? Also, there's something about those Yo Mama jokes that sounds awfully familiar…"

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the palace, rumors were flying around saying that Thom was going to try and raise the dead. Jon was unaware of these rumors, since he spent all his time watching Josiane the lumberjack princess chop down trees with her axe, but everyone else was taking bets to see who Thom was going to resurrect.

"What if he brings _Francis_ back to life?" said Raoul. "Hey Gary, do you think he'll try to raise Francis?"

"I swear, Raoul, if you mention Francis one more time, I'm going to rip out your tongue and feed it to my pet goat!" cried Gary.

Raoul stared at him. "You have a pet goat?"

"Shut up, Raoul."

"Those fools," hissed Alex, lurking in the shadows like a suspicious lurker. "Once Thom brings Roger back, I'm going to find those beauty secrets before anyone else can! And then, at last long, I shall have the _silkiest_ hair in Corus."

* * *

Back in the desert, Alanna was getting up to all kinds of adventurous shenanigans when Halef Seif asked her to rescue some lady he used to bang back in the day. To make a long, rather dull story short, Alanna rescued the lady from being burned as a witch and listened to her last words before she died.

"Alanna," gasped the lady who was accused witchcraft. "There's something you should know."

"Oh, jeez, you're not going to tell me you're my father, are you?" said Alanna.

"No, you fool!"

"My mother? Aunt? A distant cousin of my uncle's brother's daughter's grandmother's serving wench?"

"No!" gasped the lady. "I know how you can fix your sword. You know, the one that broke ages ago when you were fighting those hillmen? You have to combine it with that girly crystal sword. Only fashion can save it! Also, take this mysterious envelope."

With those last words, the lady died, and Alanna was left staring at the crystal sword. "You've got to be kidding me."

The crystal sword glowed and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Roger said, "You'd better believe it, sister!"

So Alanna whacked her broken sword and the crystal sword together, and somehow most of the sissiness got smacked out of the crystal sword. It thus became the ultimate sword of manliness! Pleased with herself, Alanna lay down in the sand and took a nap, and soon found herself in a dream.

In Alanna's dream, a large number of people were gathered in the throne room, including Jon and a strange girl dressed in a flannel shirt with an axe in her hand. "Somebody make me some pancakes!" demanded the girl in the flannel shirt, who looked like a female lumberjack. "I've been chopping down the forest all day!"

Everyone ignored her, though, because everyone's eyes were turned to the front of the throne room, where a runway had been constructed. The lights dimmed and a single bright spotlight shone on the runway. An announcer's voice came from somewhere in the room, speaking with an absurd accent. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to show you the brand-new fashions from this year's fall collection, brought to you by the greatest model in Tortallan history!" Loud, thumping music started to play and a man appeared on the runway with his back to the audience. He turned around and started to stride down the runway, dressed fashionably in solid black, and everyone gasped.

"NO!" Alanna roared.

The model was Roger. "I'm bringing trendy back!" he sang along to the thumping music.

Horrified, Alanna woke up and tried to calm herself down. "It was only a dream," she told herself. "That diva bastard could never come back!"

Or _could_ he?


	13. Shang Dragon Facts

After many days of gnawing on beef jerky from horseback, sleeping out under the stars, and trying to keep a drunken Coram from dancing the macarena with a herd of cattle, Alanna the Lioness (Tortall's one and only cross-dressing knight!) arrived in the fine country of Maren. She and Coram stopped at the nearest inn and paused to read a notice that had been plastered all over the front door.

"The Shang Dragon _can_ divide by zero," said Alanna, reading the words on the notice.

"The Shang Dragon counted to infinity," said Faithful, reading the next words on the notice. "TWICE."

"When the Shang Dragon slices onions, the onions cry."

Alanna and Faithful looked at each other. "Who _is_ this man?" Faithful demanded. "He sounds like a real nutjob."

"He sounds like someone who might possibly be manlier than me," Alanna growled. "And that is simply unacceptable!"

Once they got settled at the inn, Coram ran off to spend some quality time with the nearest bar, while Alanna found herself a table and started chewing some tobacco like a true manly man. She spat some tobacco juice across the room and nearly hit the muscular man seated all by himself. He looked at her and winked.

"Hey, foxy lady," said the stranger. "Want to have a drink with me?"

"I'm not a foxy lady, you dolt," said Alanna. "You want to get lucky, the nearest whorehouse is down the street."

"You _are_ a foxy lady," said the stranger, winking again. "Or should I say a lioness lady? _Alanna_."

"Holy crap, how do you know my name?"

The stranger shrugged over his drink. "I might have taken a peek into your wallet a couple days ago when you were sleeping on the road. You hail from 25530 Trebond Street in Trebond, Tortall, zip code 94816, you have a ton of receipts from Beef Jerky King in southern Tusaine, your social security number is 752—"

"All right, I get it!" Alanna roared. "You're stalking me!"

"Of course I'm stalking you. You're the cross-dresser who defeated the king of fashion!"

"It was a piece of cake, really. Roger was a wuss. All you had to do was spill food on his clothes and he'd run off to have a hissy fit in his room."

"He hasn't changed one bit," the stranger growled. He clutched his drink so hard, the glass shattered and spilled wine everywhere. Alanna stared at him in shock.

"You knew Roger?"

"Roger represents the two things I hate most in this world: fashion and... m-m-magic."

"Say that again?"

"M-m-m—oh, don't make me say it!" cried the stranger. He stood up, grabbed hold of the table, and broke it in half with his bare hands. "Here's what I think of your sorcery, Roger! And your pretty clothes!" He set the broken pieces of the table on fire, then blew out the flames with his breath. "Nobody messes with Liam!"

For the first time in her incredibly manly life, Alanna was completely flabbergasted. She watched in shock as Liam, the stranger, strode across the room and crashed straight through the wall instead of using the door. A man-shaped hole remained in the wall where Liam had been.

"Aw, crap," said the innkeeper. "We've repaired that wall three times already!"

"I demand to know who that man was!" said Alanna, leaping up from her seat. "WHO IS HE?"

"Oh, that guy who just left?" said the innkeeper. "That was the Shang Dragon, you dummy. You know, the Shang Dragon once won an underwater breathing contest. Against a _fish_."

"No!" gasped Alanna.

"The Shang Dragon CAN believe it's not butter."

"Impossible!"

Meanwhile, all the way back in Tortall, Raoul was standing in the courtyard saddling his horse. "Fran...cy meeting _you_ here, Gary."

Gary, who had appeared around the corner, eyed him suspiciously. "Were you about to say Francis?"

"No, I said fancy!" Raoul insisted. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"That's not what I heard, Raoul."

"Well your ears are going bad! I don't even remember who Francis _is_."

"Really? You don't remember the poor little page who sweated to death?"

Raoul burst into tears. "FRANCIS! YOU WERE SO BRAVE!"

Gary sighed. "It's okay, buddy. I'll let it slide this time."

* * *

"Yo, scholar," said Alanna, breaking down the door to the local scholar's house. "I've got this map I need you to look at."

Alanna was holding the envelope given to her by the old sorceress who died in the last chapter. She was feeling sulky, since she had discovered the Shang Dragon might possibly be manlier than her, and threw the map onto the scholar's desk with a huff.

The scholar put on his glasses and peered at the map. "Hmm... according to this map, you need to travel to the Roof of the World, yada yada yada, and the Dominion Jewel is yours!"

Alanna stared at him blankly. "Yada yada yada?"

"Exactly. And the jewel is yours!"

"Jewels are for sissies!" Alanna bellowed, kicking over a chair. "Come to think of it, this Dominion Jewel would be the perfect gift for Jonathan. It would probably match his diamond earrings!"

"This is no ordinary jewel, girlfriend," said the scholar. "The Dominion Jewel is a special jewel. All you have to do is give it to your king, yada yada yada, and your country will be saved!"

"You're not much help, you know."

The scholar winked at Alanna. "Well, if you want, we could slip upstairs to my room, yada yada yada, and—"

Alanna smacked him across the face.

"I'd like to yada yada yada that doofus until his spine cracks!" she growled as she stomped her way outside.

Alanna was on her way back to the inn when suddenly a group of rogues attacked! Before she got a chance to whip out her big, manly sword, Liam the Shang Dragon came out of nowhere and defeated the rogues single-handedly with a roundhouse kick to the face. Alanna was in shock once again.

"You know, I heard there's no such thing as lesbians," Faithful remarked. "Just women who have never met the Shang Dragon."

"The Shang Dragon doesn't sleep," moaned one of the defeated rogues, dragging himself to safety. "He _waits_."

"That's it, I demand that you come along with us!" Alanna roared at Liam. "I need you to give me lessons in manliness!"

"What if I don't want you to become manlier, foxy lady?" Liam purred. "Maybe I like those honkers the way they are."

"LIAM!" Alanna bellowed, whipping out her sword.

"Jeez, Alanna, I was talking about that herd of geese down the street! That little boy over there is trying to paint them green!"

"Oh." Alanna looked down the street at the little boy, who was indeed chasing some geese with a paint brush. "Green _would_ be a bad color for those birds. But you've made me lose my train of thought! And you're still coming along with us!"

Liam grinned. "Because I'm such a beefcake?"

"No, you bleating walrus! I need you to help me fetch this magical jewel so I can give it to my sissy prince back home. All we have to do is climb some big snowy mountain, yada yada yada, and Prince Jonny's got himself a new fashion accessory!"

"Sounds good to me," said Liam. "Just as long as we don't have to use any... m-m-m- _magic_."

"Any what?"

"M-m-m—I can't say it again!"

"Magic?"

"WHERE?" cried Liam. "MAKE IT STOP!"

"Magic!"

"NO!" Tears ran down Liam's face and he curled up in a ball on the ground. "Don't hurt me!"

"You've got to be kidding me," said Faithful. "The manliest man in the world is afraid of magic?"

"Hey, watch it, you stupid cat," said another one of the rogues, who was lying on the ground bleeding to death. "The Shang Dragon once got bit by a zombie and the zombie turned human. Speak no ill of the Shang Dragon!"

"More like the Shang _Sissy_ ," said Faithful, watching Liam hide himself under a bush to avoid the dreaded "m" word. "I almost miss Roger."


	14. The Sound of Roger

Sometime in the middle of the night, a sultry voice murmured in Alanna's ear. It said:

_I'm too sexy for this court_   
_Too sexy for this court_   
_And Alanna is short_

_I'm a wizard, you know what I mean_  
 _And I blast my little spells at the redhead_  
 _Yeah, at the redhead_ , _at the redhead, yeah_  
 _I blast my little spells at the redhead_

The very fashionable, dark-haired man who murmured these words was parading up and down a runway, modeling Corus' hottest summer swimsuit fashions—Speedos, to be precise—while Alanna was forced to watch.

_I'm too sexy for this court,_   
_Too sexy for this court_   
_Cause I'm the king of fashion!_

"No!" Alanna gasped, waking up in her bedroll on the ground. It had all been a terrible nightmare! "Roger is _not_ sexy," Alanna growled.

A breeze rustled through the trees overhead. It sounded oddly like a voice whispering, "That's just what you _want_ us to think."

Meanwhile, Gary was facing a similar predicament while he slumbered away in Corus. He stood in the practice yard where the pages did their training, only there were no pages to be seen. Instead a massive crowd of nobles sat on row upon row of raised benches while Raoul jumped around in an oversized cheerleading uniform, waving a pair of pompoms in Goldenlake colors.

"Give me an F!" Raoul cried.

The crowd repeated it back to him.

"Give me an R! Give me an A! Give me an N! Give me a C! Give me an I! Give me an S! Put it all together and what does it spell?"

"FRANCIS!" roared the crowd.

Gary woke up in a frantic sweat. "NOOOOOO!"

Liam Ironarm did not have any bad dreams that night.

The Shang Dragon doesn't have nightmares. Nightmares have the Shang Dragon.

* * *

"Holy crap, that was one of the worst nights of my life," Alanna groaned. "I can never look at Speedos the same way again. Does anybody else feel like they spent the night in a low-budget sex flick that rapidly dissolved into a horror film? Or was it just me?"

"No time to talk, you dummy," said Faithful. "Haven't you noticed that somebody's pointing crossbows at us?"

There were indeed two women named Thayet and Buri who were pointing crossbows at everyone. "Everyone freeze! This is a stick-up!" shouted Buri, who was wearing a black ski mask and matching gloves. "Now put the cat in the bag and no one gets hurt!"

Alanna looked around in bewilderment. "Wait, what?"

"Don't you normally let the cat _out_ of the bag?" said Liam.

"In the bag!" shouted Buri, rustling the sack she carried in her free hand. "Hurry up, you! We don't have all day!"

"They want _me_ , you idiots," Faithful hissed at Alanna. "Can't blame them, really. I _am_ gorgeous."

"Why in the name of Gary's pet goat do you want my cat?" Alanna roared at Buri.

"Because you're in the presence of Princess Thayet, the biggest cat lover in all of Sarain," Buri explained, gesturing at the other mask-wearing, crossbow-wielding woman who stood beside her. "Thayet founded the annual Cat Lover's Convention in Sarain. She started a nation-wide fundraiser to provide foster homes to felines!"

"And I have a stuffed kitten named Mrs. Fuzzles that I sleep with every night!" cried Thayet, pulling her stuffed kitten out of her pocket so she could give it a hug.

Alanna stared at Thayet. "This all sounds horribly familiar."

"You will bow to Her Catness!" snapped Buri. "I mean, Her Highness! Bow down to your superior!"

"Well howdy, neighbor," said Liam, who had decided to randomly strip off his shirt to showcase what a beefcake he was. "Those are some impressive knockers."

Thayet aimed her crossbow at his head. "Excuse me?"

"They're selling them right over there!" said Liam, pointing down the road. "Don't you see that traveling salesman?"

There was indeed a traveling salesman with an impressive collection of door-knockers for sale. "Door-knockers! Get your state-of-the-art knockers right here!" he cried. "Handcrafted and one of a kind! Buy one knocker and get one free for a limited time only!"

"Does anyone else get the feeling that my life is one never-ending boob joke?" Alanna muttered. "Or is it just me? _Anyway_ ," she roared, glaring at Thayet and Buri, "you sissies can't have my cat! But if you travel with us, I _will_ let you pet him three times a day."

"Deal," Thayet said immediately.

* * *

After much traveling, cat petting, and an embarrassing incident in which Liam caught Alanna doing magic and wet his pants like a little girl, the group made their way to the Roof of the World, where anyone brave enough could climb the snowy passes, yada yada yada, and win the Dominion Jewel! But first it was time for everyone to have their fortunes told.

"There won't be any m-m-m-magic involved, will there?" Liam asked worriedly.

"Say that again?" said the old lady who had come to tell their fortunes.

"M-m-m—No! Don't make me say it!" cried Liam. He ran off in tears.

"What a pansy," said the fortune teller lady. " _Real_ men don't fear the future! Now who's up first?"

"Oh great, not this again," said Alanna. "Didn't I already have my future told by some hobo goddess back when I was a squire?"

The fortune teller took hold of Alanna's hand and immediately shuddered. "Fashion," she croaked. "I see _fashion_ in the future. The master of style lives _again_!"

"No!" gasped Alanna.

"Come," said the fortune teller, clutching Alanna's hand. "Come and _see_ what I see…"

Suddenly Alanna found herself tumbling through a vast black tunnel. Somehow she had entered The Future. She reached the end of the tunnel and hit the floor with a crash. She found herself standing in the ballroom of the palace at Corus, only it looked nothing like the palace she had left behind. All the tapestries had been replaced with giant magazine covers of _Tortall Vogue_ and _Corus Cosmopolitan_ and mirrors stood at every corner. Worst of all, the ballroom was dominated by a giant marble statue of Roger that stood beneath a banner proclaiming the words FASHION IS POWER. A party was in full swing in the ballroom. All sorts of stylish lord and ladies wearing the season's hottest fashions danced around while a band struck up a cheesy-sounding tune. Delia of Eldorne stood at the microphone and started to sing:

_Oh Roger, you're so fine_   
_You're so stylish all the time_   
_Hey Roger! Hey Roger!_   
_Oh Roger, you're so fine_   
_You're so stylish all the time_   
_Hey Roger! Hey Roger!_

Roger himself appeared in a puff of purple smoke and sauntered with style to the front of the party. A host of photographers were eagerly snapping pictures of him for next month's cover of _Tortall Vogue_. "It's great to be alive again," Roger said fabulously. "Fashion never sleeps, you know." He stared at something across the crowd, his eyes going wide with shock. "Alex, do my eyes deceive me? Or is that man over there wearing _white_ socks with a black outfit?"

"A serious fashion violation," growled Alex, who wore a badge that identified him as Chief of Fashion Police.

"Well you know what to do!"

Soon the man in white socks was screaming as Alex dragged him away. Meanwhile, Delia clutched her microphone and continued to sing:

 _Oh Roger, you're so trendy_  
 _Where'd you get those shoes?_  
 _You look so good in black and in every shade of blue_  
 _Oh Roger, king of fashion_ , _greatest of them all_  
 _It's dukes like you, Roger!_  
 _I love your boots, love your boots, Roger_  
 _Let's hit the mall, Roger!_

"I've seen enough," said Alanna, shielding her eyes. "Get me out of here, lady!"

Suddenly she was back where she had started, with Thayet and Buri and the old fortune teller staring at her. "This is why you _must_ get the Dominion Jewel," croaked the fortune teller. "It is a jewel so supremely fabulous that even a fashion king like Roger is forced to bow down to it!"

"Great," said Alanna. "But first I'm going to take a moment to randomly put on a dress so I can better understand this sissy-fest on my hands."

Liam walked back into the room, thinking he was free from the evils of magic, and started screaming the moment he saw Alanna's dress. "My eyes! THEY BURN!" he cried, and ran from the room again.

"A man so manly that the sight of dresses physically pains him," said Faithful. "You have a lot to learn, Alanna."


	15. Alanna Gets Dazzled

"Might as well freeze my butt off while everyone's asleep so I can get that jewel," Alanna decided after everyone had gone to bed. "It's not like I'll need rescuing from a sissy piece of _jewelry_ , after all."

"That giant snow-covered mountain doesn't look so sissy," Faithful pointed out. "I'm staying right here."

"So much for being _faithful_ , Faithful. As soon as this is over, I'm looking for another cat."

And so Alanna set off into the white, freezing unknown while Thayet lay dreaming about owning ten thousand cats, Coram dreamed about bathing in a hot tub full of booze with Rispah, and Liam dreamed about a world free from the evils of m-m-magic. To make a long and very cold story short, Alanna climbed a big snowy mountain, yada yada yada, and found herself faced with the great and terrible creature who guarded the Dominion Jewel.

"Hi," said the big snow monkey guarding the jewel. "My name's Alfred."

Alanna stood staring at him in shock for a full minute of two. "You've got to be kidding me. The jewel is guarded by a _monkey_?"

"They're on a low budget here," said Alfred the snow monkey. "It was supposed to be guarded by a fearsome mountain serpent, but, well… I demand a much lower salary. So they got me."

Alanna and Alfred stared at each other for another uncomfortable moment. "So what does a _monkey_ care about some jewelry?" Alanna demanded.

"Girl, have you seen this jewel?" Alfred gushed. "It is simply _to die_ for. You wear that thing to any ball and you will be the _star_ of the show. Let me show it to you!"

He disappeared into a tunnel for a moment, then reappeared carrying a large, gaudy jewelry box covered in glitter. Alfred opened the box and Alanna was momentarily blinded by the dazzling jewel that lay inside. Once she could see again, she found herself trapped in the most glamorous illusion. The caves of the mountain now appeared to be a grand ballroom filled with dancing couples wearing the trendiest fashions. But Alanna was the trendiest of them all. Dressed in a gown fit for royalty and dripping with jewels, she walked into the center of the crowd in a pair of heels so stylish, Roger himself would chop off his own arm to get a pair of them.

"I feel so… so _fabulous_ ," Alanna said in a strangely subdued voice. She twirled around in her dress and enjoyed the way everyone in the room was gazing at her. "If this is fashion, then I will gladly be its slave!"

A little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Faithful said: _And never eat beef jerky again? Give up on kicking ass and giving wedgies to pansies? You're crazy!_

Alanna immediately stopped twirling her skirts around. She kicked off her heels and ferociously broke them apart. "You're right, voice-that-sounds-suspiciously-like-Faithful! What on earth was I thinking? I'm too _manly_ to be stylish!"

Having successfully snapped out of the spell cast by the jewel, Alanna realized she was wearing her own clothes again. The ballroom scene had faded and the cave looked like a cave once more. Alfred grinned at her and shut the jewelry box.

"Told you so, girlfriend!" he said.

"Wow," said Alanna. "If that thing has the power to catch _me_ in its trap, imagine what it would do to a fruitcake like Roger if he ever came back to life. He'd be enslaved forever! Now hand over that jewel, bozo."

Alfred clutched the box to his chest. "I don't think so, sister. It brings out the _most_ dazzling highlights in my fur!"

"Hey, look," said Alanna, pointing at something in the distance. "What's that over there?"

Alfred turned around. Alanna punched him, grabbed the jewelry box, and hopped on a snowboard that had conveniently appeared out of nowhere. She sped down the mountain, ran into the inn where everyone was still sleeping, and bolted the door behind her.

"Dude, I'm never going to the zoo again. Monkeys are the _worst_."

* * *

"Back to Tortall we go!" roared Alanna. "I can't wait to see the look on Alex's face when I give the Dominion Jewel to Jon. Jealousy's going to knock him down so hard, he'll be sent down to join Roger!"

"Are there plenty of cats in Tortall?" Thayet wanted to know, holding Faithful adoringly in her arms. "I can't survive for long without a flock of adorable furballs around!"

"Yes, there's plenty of cats around," Alanna said with a scowl. "You can even meet King Furball himself, Prince Jonathan the champion of felines. The two of you can have plenty of fun changing litter boxes together. Now let's head home, you fools!"

" _Ahem!_ " Liam coughed loudly in Alanna's direction. "What's all this nonsense about _let's_ and _we_? Maybe I don't want to go with you. Maybe I want to punch a massive hole in this tree instead!"

And using all his pent-up manly rage, Liam punched a hole right in the middle of an innocent tree standing by the road, using nothing but his bare fist.

"There's no theory of evolution," Faithful commented. "Just a list of creatures the Shang Dragon has allowed to live."

"What's gotten into you, you brain-dead moose?" Alanna bellowed at Liam. "You've been sulky ever since I brought back that sissy jewel! Are you upset it doesn't match your outfit?"

"I'm upset by you and your witchcraft!" growled Liam, crushing some innocent rocks with a stomp of his foot. "You and your m-m- _crafty_ ways! We're not banging anymore, girlfriend. You sleep by yourself from now on!"

"What do I care?" said Alanna. "I've got plenty of backups waiting for me in Corus. Your fire's not so hot, Dragon Boy."

After much traveling and squabbling, everyone was finally on their way back to Tortall. Alanna was shocked to find that, surprise surprise, one of her old friends had been sent to fetch her home.

"Raoul, what are _you_ doing here? I thought Gary didn't let you out in public anymore."

"Hey, I've got my outbursts under control now," Raoul said sheepishly. "And what Gary doesn't know won't hurt him. He got sick, so I snuck over here to meet you!"

"So how are all those losers back in Corus?" said Alanna. "Has my pansy brother Thom knitted any good scarves lately? He was embroidering a new tablecloth for the queen, last I heard. The wuss."

"Uh, well… actually, the queen is kind of dead," Raoul said awkwardly. "The king, too."

"Holy crap, so that means Jon's in charge now? If he wears his diamond earrings while sitting on the throne, I'll make him wish he joined Francis while he had the chance!"

Raoul's lower lip started to tremble. His eyes watered. "Get a hold of yourself, Raoul!" he muttered. "Gary will never let you out of doors again if he hears you had another episode!"

"Another episode of what?" said Alanna. "Are you still hung up on that Francis kid? He barely spoke _two_ words to any of us, Raoul! Maybe you should give him a rest already."

Raoul's hands twitched. His lips trembled again. "A-all right. I can have dialogue completely unrelated to some dead page that most people have forgotten about. No problem! Anyway, have you heard the hottest gossip about Roger coming back? He's ruining the whole palace. He burned three pairs of my breeches because he didn't like their color!"

Alanna took a swig from a jug of water and spat it all over Raoul. "WHAT?"

"The king of fashion is back! Only he's kind of crazy now. Keeps tearing down tapestries and stomping on them because they're crooked, lighting women's hair on fire because it's the wrong style, that sort of thing. He even tried to pluck a man's eyes out because they didn't match his shoes!"

"Great, now I've got kill that diva bastard _again_."

"You can blame your wussy brother Thom. He tricked us into thinking he was harmless with his tea parties and sewing circles. And then, when we least suspected it, he brought Roger back!"

"And all this time I thought Thom was too chicken to do anything more dangerous than wield a pair of knitting needles," Alanna growled. "Take me back to Corus, Raoul. I've got some fashionable backside to kick!"

But Raoul was in no position to do anything at the moment. Chatting about ordinary subjects for such a length of time had cost him his strength and he collapsed to the ground. He sat there a moment, staring off into space, until he finally couldn't hold it in anymore.

"FRANCIS!" he bawled wildy. "I never said you could let Roger come back from the dead! You should have kept an eye on him!"

"Gary's going to murder you," said Alanna.


	16. Fashion Victims

Meanwhile, in Corus, the newly resurrected king of fashion was sauntering through the palace in an outfit he designed himself, on the lookout for fashion violations. "Lady Cythera, your hair is _most_ unbecoming today," Roger tutted. "I'm going to have to restyle it."

"Oh, no!" gasped Cythera. "Duke Roger, please, have mercy—"

Too late. Roger whipped out a sword and sliced off Cythera's hair. " _Much_ better, darling," he gushed. "Now let's try the whole thing again. By the time that hair grows back, it had better be stylish!" A rather insane giggle escaped his lips as he sauntered fashionably away.

"I've created a monster," muttered Thom, who was watching from the shadows. He looked down at his own outfit, which was totally last year's fashion, and wished he could remember how to properly match his shoes with his belt. "As Roger becomes more of a fashion tyrant, my own powers of style are fading!"

"Should have thought of that before you brought him back to life, buddy," said George, who was also hiding in the shadows. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to pay my mom a random visit."

And George skipped merrily away into the city to his mother's house, which was unusually dark and silent.

"Hey, mom, I'm home! And before you ask, _no_ , I do _not_ have herpes again. I swear!"

Eleni Cooper didn't respond. She was lying unconscious in bed, covered in the tell-tale bruises and scratches and broken bones of a brutal attack. A sheet of paper had been pinned to her dress. When George got closer, he saw that it said:

_Yo mama so poor she can't afford to pay attention._

"Claw did this!" growled George, crumpling up the paper. "I will find his identity and make him pay!"

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Raoul was sitting tied to a chair with a gag around his mouth, his eyes watering with frustration at all the emotional outbursts he couldn't make. Gary stood nearby with a triumphant grin on his face. "Peace at last, Raoul. Peace at LAST!"

Tears slid down Raoul's cheeks. Francis' ghost floated sadly nearby, wishing somebody would shout his name through the palace halls. But Gary's gag remained firmly in place.

* * *

"Ossifer, I'm not as drunk as I think you drank I am," slurred Myles, swaying in the doorway as he let George into his house.

George sighed. "Did you manage to get sober long enough to find out Claw's identity? I'd really like to pay _his_ mama a visit."

"Oh, yeah. That guy! He's Ralon of Malven."

George blinked. "Wait, that ugly kid who used to harass Alanna when she was a page? I thought that brat fell off a cliff or something."

"Yeah, he was hanging around in the Vat of Forgotten Characters for a while, along with that dead kid who got all sweaty. But then he got a name change and an uglier face!"

"Why didn't I realize this before?" moaned George.

"I don't know, buddy," said Myles. "I'm a gods-darned alcoholic and _I_ figured it out." He chuckled and chugged down some beer. "And I'll bet I know a few things about _yo mama_ that Claw hasn't thought of."

"What do you mean by—Oh, crap!" George immediately clapped his hands over his eyes when he saw Eleni come out of Myles' bedroom in only a bathrobe. "Mom, you've got to be kidding me. I thought you stopped sleeping around with drunks when I was a kid!"

"Some old habits are never gone for good, sonny," said Eleni. "Like your herpes."

"I had that cleared up, mom!"

"Hey, you know what's really funny?" said Myles. "If you and Alanna ever shack up, I could be your step-dad _and_ your father-in-law!"

George stared at Myles in horror. "That is incredibly strange."

Myles chugged some more beer and took Eleni by the hand. "I've got a yo mama joke for you, buddy. Yo mama so _hot_ she—"

"NOOOOOO!"

George clapped his hands over his ears and ran out of the house.

* * *

"I hereby call this meeting of the She-Man Jon Haters Club to order," said Delia, banging a gavel for silence. "Josiane, I've _told_ you not to wear that stupid plaid shirt to club meetings!"

"It matches my shoes _and_ my purse," Josiane retorted, tightening her grip on the handle of her axe. "There are plenty of lumberjacks out there who find this very fashionable, for your information."

"Roger hates plaid, you tree-chopping freak!"

"Silence, you fools," said Alex, who was lurking secretively in the shadows of club of headquarters. "Now let's get real here. Even if she _was_ wearing an outfit that adheres to Roger's fashion standards, Josiane wouldn't have a chance at looking stylish when _I'm_ in the room."

"Please, Alex," huffed Delia. "That shade of blue is _so_ last year."

"Take that back, you hussy!"

"All of you shut up!" said the fourth member of the club. "Especially you, Alex. Yo mama so ugly, her portraits hang themselves."

"You're one to talk," said Alex. "You're lucky we let you into our club at all, Claw. Even if Roger himself were to design your clothes, it still wouldn't help that face of yours."

Claw scowled at Alex. "Well yo mama so fat—"

"Enough!" snapped Delia, banging her gavel again. "How come you're not King of Thieves yet, Claw?"

"I don't know, maybe because I'm not really sure how getting rid of George is supposed to knock Jon off his throne?"

"He does have a point," Josiane admitted.

Claw broke into a hideous grin. "If you really want me to put my skills to use, why don't you let me tell Jon a few jokes? Such as, yo mama so dead she—"

"What is the meaning of this?"

The four club members stared in shock as Roger burst trendily into the room, interrupting their meeting. Roger looked around the room, tutting to himself at all the fashion mistakes he saw, and let out a laugh when he saw the club banner hanging on the wall.

"The She-Man Jon Haters Club," said Roger, reading the banner. "Very cute, Delia. Too bad it's a good deal cuter than that hair ribbon you're wearing. Where did you find that thing? At Tacky-R-Us?"

"You didn't think it was so tacky the last time you saw me!" sobbed Delia.

"Fashions change, sweetie. Now get rid of that atrocity before I burn it off of you."

"Why do you seem so displeased, Roger?" said Alex. "We're trying to continue your work for you. Don't you want that tacky Jon off the throne?"

"Jon is actually showing great promise in the ways of style," said Roger. "You would do well to follow his example, Mr. Outdated-Shade-of-Blue."

"Told you so!" hissed Delia.

"And _you_ ," said Roger, turning to Claw and Josiane. "I don't even know where to start with you two. Those clothes aren't even fit for kitchen rags! I've seen peasant clothes with more pizzaz than that trash you're wearing. Leave my sight at once!"

Claw and Josiane were so awed by Roger's hip style that they forgot all about Yo Mama jokes and axe-wielding. They both fled the room in tears.

"As for my former minions," said Roger, glaring at Alex and Delia. "Knock it off with these shenanigans. I don't want to hear about it. You got a plan, you two can just talk to the hand!"

And after making his dramatic hand gesture, Roger sauntered out of the room.

* * *

"Thom, is that a vest you're wearing?" asked Prince Jon. "You know vests went out of style last decade!"

"I must have forgotten," Thom said sadly, glaring down at his vest.

"And nobody ever wears brown anymore. You told the entire palace yourself about a month ago!"

"Must have forgotten that too," muttered Thom.

"You're not looking so good, pal. Maybe if you took some of Roger's hip advice, like I've been doing, you'd feel like a new man!" Jon admired himself in a nearby mirror and let out a sigh of satisfaction. "Roger's taken up his old hobby of jewelry making. He says he's going to hand-craft a brand-new crown for my coronation! Isn't that nice of him? But wait a minute…" Jon took a better look at Thom's outfit. "Those striped leggings and plaid socks totally clash, dude. Did you go blind in one eye?"

"Don't look at me, Jon," Thom muttered darkly, trying to shield himself with his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm hideous, I say! HIDEOUSSSS!"

He ripped off his vest and ran away screaming.


	17. Too Much Wordplay

While the king of fashion continued to wreak havoc on the palace and all its fashionably challenged inhabitants, Alanna and her pals had returned to Corus. "Ahh," sighed George, who had come to meet them. "I was hoping I'd see those melons again."

Before Alanna could growl at him, a fruit vendor came by pushing his cart down the street. "Melons!" shouted the fruit vendor. "Come get your ripe, tasty melons! Fresh from the farm!"

"I hate when that happens," Alanna muttered.

"Oh boy, guests!" cried Myles. He burst out of his house with a half-empty six-pack in his arms and looked at the people gathered in the street. "Is it party time?"

"NO!" roared Alanna. "We all need a place to stay, so be a good adoptive father and rustle up some dinner for us!"

Myles blinked at Alanna. "What did you call me?"

"You adopted me! Remember?"

"When the hell did _that_ happen?"

"In the last book, you idiot! Look, we even got matching father and daughter tattoos to prove it!"

Alanna rolled up Myles' sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his arm shaped like a lioness with the word _Father_ in the middle. "Boy, I must have been really hammered that day," said Myles. "Well, uh… come along, _son_."

"Daughter!" Alanna hissed at him.

"Jeez, you could have fooled me with those breeches." Myles took some swigs from the remaining half of his six-pack and stumbled back into his house, leading Alanna, George, and the rest of their traveling circus to the dinner table where Eleni Cooper and Rispah were waiting.

Coram grinned. "There's that nice set of coconuts I've been missing."

Rispah leered at him. "Not in front of my family, Coram."

"They didn't have _any_ tropical fruit out in Sarain!" Coram declared, gazing longingly at the two coconuts that sat on the kitchen counter. George stood beside him munching on a melon slice.

"Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time I've heard this, I could buy my way out of this stupid story," Alanna growled under her breath.

"I've got a surprise for you, Georgie!" Elena Cooper announced, throwing an arm around Myles and his six-pack. "You're getting a new dad!"

Myles spat out the sip of booze he had taken. "Wait, when did I agree to this?"

"This morning, Myles."

"Holy crap, I must have been hammered out of my skull," said Myles. "Well, hey, son-daughter-whatever you are, there's food on the table and plenty of booze in the fridge for you and your little pals. There's only one rule in my house: the party doesn't start without me!"

"I hope you know what you're in for, Mom," said George, glaring at Eleni.

After everyone ate a bunch of food and guzzled up Myles' booze, Thayet got into her kitty-cat pajamas and bedded down with Buri, Coram reacquainted himself with putting his sword in Rispah's scabbard (wink wink), and Alanna was left standing awkwardly while Liam and George scowled at each other and cracked their knuckles threateningly.

"I banged her first," said George.

"I'm a beefcake," Liam shot back.

"I'm not scared of magic!"

Liam gasped and covered his ears. "No!"

"MAGIC!" George taunted. "Magic magic _magic!_ Magic magic _magic!_ "

"Make it stop!" cried Liam, curling up into a ball with tears streaming down his chiseled face. "Make it go away!"

"Dude, you're such a wuss. There's no way Alanna will want to sleep with you after—Hey, where'd Alanna go?"

Alanna, who decided she didn't need either of those sissies, had gone to bed alone. She was just settling into a dream about setting Roger's wardrobe on fire, when something suddenly woke her up. "Why does it smell like strawberry scented perfume in here?"

"That would be me," Thom muttered, hovering near her bed.

"How did _you_ get in here?" roared Alanna. "And why are you glowing in the dark? I freaking hate fashion and even _I_ think that's tacky!"

"Don't rub it in. Roger corrupted my gift of fashion and now I'm a laughingstock. You have no idea what it's like to be ridiculed in public for wearing socks with sandals!"

"Maybe if you were more of a _man_ , you wouldn't have this problem," said Alanna. "You ought to use whatever pathetic powers you have left and steal some testosterone from the Shang Dragon stud sleeping down the hall. He's got plenty to spare!"

"The Shang Dragon can dry his hands with water," Faithful piped up.

Thom scowled moodily at the Lisa Frank patterned vest he was wearing over a horrible frilly white shirt. "Roger would just take it from me. There's no use."

He sighed. Alanna stared uncomfortably at her twin.

"Dude," she said slowly. "Are you _sparkling_?"

Alas, Thom _was_ both glowing and sparkling in the dark. "Dang it," he muttered. "I'd better get out of here." He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

* * *

"How do you like my mourning attire?" soon-to-be King Jonathan asked Alanna the next day, modeling his stylish, solid-black outfit. "Roger designed it for me himself! He says it really brings out my eyes."

"Roger's a fruitcake," said Alanna. " _And_ he's evil. You wouldn't be in mourning at all if it wasn't for him!"

"Now, now, Alanna. Would an evil man handcraft such an exquisite belt?" asked Jon, displaying the black jeweled belt around his tunic. "I've got him working on a tiara and a matching pair of diamond-encrusted slippers that are _really_ going to make me feel like royalty!" At Alanna's blank look, he coughed and added, "When I stand next to my wife, I mean. Of course they're for my bride! Speaking of brides… What do you say, foxy lady? Change your mind yet?"

"And spend a lifetime shackled to His Sissiness? I don't know what you need a queen for when you already _are_ one, buddy."

Suddenly, Thayet stumbled into the room, still wearing her kitty-cat pajamas from earlier. Her stuffed cat Mrs. Fuzzles was in her arms. "Oops, sorry to interrupt…" She found herself staring at Jon.

Jon stared back. "Dear Mithros, I've never seen cans that size before."

Thayet blushed. "Oh, my!"

"No, it's Myles," said Jon, pointing across the room. "He's trying to lift those giant beer cans! Somebody should go help him with that."

Alanna smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, come _on_. You've got to be kidding me!"

Jon noticed Mrs. Fuzzles clutched in Thayet's arms and began to stammer excitedly. "Do… do you like cats?"

Thayet smiled. "Is the sky blue?"

"Want to go shopping for catnip with me?"

"Of course!"

And the two of them skipped off to the nearest Petco together.

* * *

"Well, Alanna," said Raoul with a sigh, "you've got to face him sometime."

Alanna stroked the hilt of her manly sword. "He's had it coming."

"It's been a long time," said Raoul.

"Not long enough! He should have stayed in his tomb like a normal person!"

Raoul wiped away a tear. "Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of chances now to catch up on all the good times you shared."

"Good times? Ha!" scoffed Alanna. She glanced worriedly at Raoul. "We _are_ talking about Roger, right?"

Raoul gazed blankly back at her. "Uh… no? I thought we were discussing Francis' ghost! He's been hovering around the palace in plain sight lately!"

"Raoul, you know you have a problem, right? Has Gary suggested counseling?"

"N-no," said Raoul, his eyes welling up with fresh tears.

"Easy there, pal. That poor sweaty kid's fate was sad and everything, but maybe you should learn to—"

Raoul started to sob. "FRANCIS!" he wailed. "It's MY fault you got so sweaty! I should have given you my share of the deodorant!" He put his face in his hands and wept loudly.

Alanna was stunned. "Wow. Is _that_ where all these outbursts have been coming from?" She clapped Raoul on the shoulder and handed him a business card. "Here, you might want to see this therapist. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an undead diva to face down!"

And armed with all the manliness she could muster, Alanna marched over to the palace where Roger was lounging up on the battlements, reading the latest _Tortall Vogue_ while a bonfire blazed next to him. He had been burning offensive articles of clothing all morning. Francis' ghost floated past the bonfire, waving at Alanna, but Alanna ignored him and snatched the magazine out of Roger's hands.

"We meet again, you pansy," she snarled at him.

Roger quickly inspected his hands to make sure she hadn't ruined his manicure, than glared at Alanna. " _You!_ I liked you better when you were a boy. At least it gave you an excuse for being so color-blind. Honestly, girlfriend, what self-respecting redhead runs around in an orange tunic? Did you get sand in your eyes when you were hanging in the desert?

"I liked _you_ better before you were a zombie," Alanna shot back. "Didn't they have any tanning beds in that tomb of yours? You're looking sickly pale, buddy."

Roger gasped and consulted his compact mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he smirked at Alanna. "I know what game you're playing, sister. You've always been jealous of my style! You just can't stand it that good fashion comes to me so naturally!"

"If you call _that_ good fashion," said Faithful. "I've seen blind men with better taste."

"I've had enough of your sissy talk, Roger," said Alanna. "I'm leaving. And next time you go outside, try to button your shirt properly first."

Roger looked down and gasped in horror when he realized his shirt had been buttoned wrong. "It was a minor oversight!" he shouted, shaking his fist at Alanna's retreating back. "It happens to even the best of us now and then!"


	18. Queen Jonathan

"Well, I guess it's time to present this sissy jewel to the entire court," said Alanna, whipping out the Dominion Jewel. "Let's hope Roger gets so dazzled he wets himself."

"I'm about to wet myself if you don't put that m-m- _monstrosity_ away!" said Liam. He was cowering in a corner, shielding his eyes from the magical jewel. "It burns!"

"Wuss." Alanna tucked the jewel into her pocket. "Yo, Jonny! Whenever you're done changing that litter box with Thayet, I'm ready for the ball. Let's get this nightmare over with."

Jon appeared with Faithful in his arms and widened his eyes at the sight of Alanna. "GASP!" Jon gasped. "What do you mean, you're ready? You can't go to the ball dressed like _that_!"

Alanna looked down at her manly, dirt-stained breeches and combat boots. "Oh, no," she roared. "I'm not going to let you confuse me again! I might have gone through a girly phase now and then, but I stopped it after I caught you trying on my bra for the fifth time!"

"I was _curious_ ," Jon protested.

"The first time is curiosity, dude. After that you're just enjoying it."

"Well never mind all that, girlfriend. We've got to get you ready for the ball! Bring out the dresses, Thayet!"

Thayet wheeled in an entire rack of ball gowns with matching slippers and tiaras. Liam promptly fainted in horror at being exposed to so much unmanliness. His body began to unconsciously twitch as Thayet brought a heaping pile of matching purses into the mix. Alanna tried to pretend she wasn't interested in a pretty purple dress that matched her eyes.

"You'll have to force it onto me!" she bellowed stubbornly. "I go dressed as a manly man or not at all!"

"How about you go as a manly girl?" suggested Thayet. "You can wear a partial dress with trousers underneath!"

"It's very comfortable," Jon added, speaking from experience.

"Well… I guess I can handle being half a sissy," said Alanna.

"Wonderful!" cried Jon. "You can borrow some of my—I mean, _Thayet's_ perfume for the occasion!"

"Just as long as it doesn't smell like cats," said Alanna.

* * *

"Ta-da!" Jon announced an hour later, admiring his handiwork. He was wearing a pair of trendy glasses with a fashionable sweater draped over his shoulders. He had also developed a lisp for some reason. "Oh, honey. You're a real Cinderella!" he gushed at Alanna, admiring her hair and outfit. "My sweet little pumpkin has become a carriage! You play your cards right, sweetie, and those boys will be fighting over who gets to ride first!"

Alanna looked into the mirror Jon held in front of her. "Hmm. I guess it's okay to be manly _and_ pretty."

"Sweetie, I've been telling people that for years," said Jon, spraying some of his—uh, _Thayet's_ perfume on Alanna.

Liam, who was still lying in an unconscious heap on the floor, suddenly opened his eyes. "Where am I? What day is it?" His eyes landed on Alanna in all her fabulous glory and he let out a horrified scream. "What in the name of all that is studly is THAT? The abomination! It burrrns!" He ran smack into the wall, punched a giant hole through it, and dashed away screaming.

"And this is why we stopped sleeping together," muttered Alanna. "Now let's get this stupid ball over with."

"Oh. Right," said Jon, dropping the lisp. "Time to do kingly stuff!"

So they all walked down a glamorous set of stairs and entered the ballroom, where Alanna got down on one knee and offered the Dominion Jewel to Jon. "A jewel so dazzling that whoever wields it can control all the style in the land," she told him. "Here, take it. I'm sick of this thing!"

She shoved the jewel at Jon, who gazed at it adoringly and tried to decide which outfits would compliment it best. A band struck up some music and a drunken Myles wandered over to Thayet.

"Nice owls," he slurred, peeking down her dress. He grabbed a can of beer and started to sing a love song to it: "I don't care what you are, where you're from, how you taste, as long as you _chug_ me!" He raised the beer can lovingly to his lips.

"That doesn't make any sense," Faithful complained. " _He's_ the one doing the chugging, not the other way around!"

"Never question the words of a drunken man, Faithful," said Alanna. "Never question them."

* * *

"By the way, George, you're a baron now," Jon randomly announced

George gaped at him. "Wait, what?"

"I don't know, man. Just go with it."

"…Okay."

* * *

"You know who I haven't made fun of yet since returning to Corus?" Alanna remarked to nobody in particular. "Delia!"

"You might want to try the Poorly Dressed Hussy Convention at the other end of the palace," suggested Alex, who was doing his daily lurking. He looked shiftily from side to side and muttered, "I was never here," before fading into the shadows.

"Did somebody mention my name?" asked Delia, popping out of nowhere with Josiane the lumberjack princess.

"Ow, my eyes!" said Alanna, shielding her face. "I forgot how ugly you were."

" _You!_ " cried Delia. "I liked you better when you were a boy."

Alanna smirked. "I bet you did."

"What are you implying, you he-she?"

"I heard you used to bang Prince Jon back when you were pretending to be a boy," said Josiane. "Now I understand why he kept trying on my bra."

"Oh, jeez, you too?" said Alanna. "I can't really blame Delia for chasing after me. I _am_ a lot manlier than Jon, after all."

"I thought you were a boy!" yelled Delia.

Josiane stroked the handle of her lumberjack axe. "Want me to chop her down?"

"No," said Delia, sighing. "Let's go laugh at Thom to feel better about ourselves. I heard he's wearing a spandex leotard today."

* * *

At long last, the day arrived for Jon's coronation! Everyone was preparing to be on their very best fashion behavior in case Roger decided to start burning clothes again. As promised, Roger had handcrafted a pretty, sparkling crown for Jon along with some matching slippers and earrings for his "bride." A lot of important people, along with Francis' lonely little ghost, were gathered around while Jon prepared to become their ruler.

"All hail Queen Jonathan," muttered Alanna.

Jon overheard her. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Take a good long look at yourself, buddy."

Myles' drunken singing had been such a hit at the last party that he decided to record his own album for the coronation. He wandered through the crowd, passing out handmade CDs to people, and shoved one into Alanna's hands. "Happy New Year, son! This one's on the house!"

"It's Coronation Day, Myles," groaned Alanna. "And for the last time, I'm your daughter!"

"Dang, maybe you should lose the breeches."

"Maybe _you_ should lose the booze!"

Myles beamed happily at her. "That rhymed! Have you ever considered writing songs?"

"No." Alanna frowned at the CD in her hands. "What's this crap?"

"That's the one and only _Myles of Olau's Greatest Hits!_ Featuring popular songs like: As Long As You Chug Me, Show Me the Meaning of Being Thirsty, and Quit Playing Games With My Booze. Now available on one hour-long collection for your listening pleasure!"

Myles had accidentally spelled his own name as Mlyes of Olua on the handwritten CD cover. "Myles, I think you might be dyslexic," said Alanna. "And your singing sounds like a werewolf mating with a sheep."

"Aww, thanks, son-daughter! Want me to autograph it for you?"

Alanna shoved the CD back at him. "Just go someplace where you can't embarrass me." She glanced around at the crowd. "By the way, does anyone else find it strange that Roger's not here? I bet that pansy's still locked in his room doing his hair."

"All right, everybody!" Jon announced, waving his hands in the air like he just didn't care. "It's time to make my relationship with Tortall official. Lay that crown on me, baby!"

So the fabulous, sparkly crown was set upon Jon's head and it complimented his outfit perfectly. But suddenly the ground started to tremble.

"EARTHQUAKE!" cried Raoul.

"Oh, please," said Gary. "Do you really think I'm going to fall for that, Raoul?"

"Fall for what?"

"You think you're so clever, disguising it as an earthquake, but I know you're actually wailing about Francis!"

Raoul looked dumbfounded. "Who's Francis?"

" _Who's Francis_ , you ask? Who's _FRANCIS_? The sweaty kid you've been going on about for years, you doofus! The one who kicked the bucket when we were pages? Does _that_ ring any bells?"

"Oh, _him!_ I got over that," said Raoul, looking very calm and well-adjusted. "Turns out I was suffering a chronic case of survivor's guilt, according to my therapist. But now that I've made my peace with the past, I can finally let go!"

Gary was shocked into silence. The ground trembled again.

"EARTHQUAKE!" Raoul repeated. "Run for your lives!"

Francis' ghost floated over and pointed toward the nearest exit, but only Gary saw him. "FRANCIS!" Gary wailed. "No!" Realizing what he had done, he clapped his hands over his mouth in shame and ran away.


	19. One Fashion To Rule Them All

While everyone was panicking over the earthquake, Alanna went off in search of Thom. "I'd better go help the poor wuss. Embroidery thread and knitting needles are no match against an earthquake!"

She gasped when she discovered Thom in his room. He was painful to look at. He was wearing tie-dye overalls with a ruffled shirt covered in sequins. A plaid cowboy hat was perched on his head. He was slumped over in a chair, feebly trying to untie the laces on his Barney the Dinosaur sneakers.

"These clothes… are killing me…" he rasped weakly.

"Then take them off, you dolt!"

"I… can't. Roger… made them permanent." Thom coughed. "L'Oreal… because you're worth it!"

And with those profound words, Thom was no more.

* * *

Meanwhile, George managed to escape the falling debris and ducked into the only bar on the block that wasn't crumbling to pieces. "Boy, I need a pick-me-up." He turned to the bartender. "But first, I'm looking for my friend I.P. Freely. He was supposed to meet me here!"

"I.P. Freely!" shouted the ever-gullible bartender. "Does anybody know I.P. Freely?"

While George was chuckling to himself, Claw came out of nowhere and hurled a knife at him!

"Yo mama so fat, her steps measure on the Richter Scale!" said Claw.

George caught the knife before it could hit him. "Oh, yeah? Well _yo_ mama so dumb she didn't drown you at birth!" He threw the knife at Claw and it stuck him right in the ribs. "Bulls-eye!"

And then a lot of really strong dudes came out of the woodwork and everything turned into a massive brawl, but the day was saved when Liam came out of nowhere and unleashed his macho man powers upon them. Nobody stood a chance.

"When the Shang Dragon is late, time has to slow down," commented a random bystander.

"The Shang Dragon can hear sign language!" said another bystander.

George watched Liam fighting with a dreamy look on his face. "Break me off a piece of that beefcake. I mean, _uh_ , great job, Liam! If you'll excuse me, it's time to chop off some ears!"

* * *

Back in Thom's room, Alanna was hunting around for some half-decent clothes she could throw over her brother, when an odd scent reached her nose. "Why do I smell maple syrup?" Suddenly she heard a loud _crack!_ like an axe striking wood. It was Josiane, dressed in a blood-spattered plaid shirt with her lumberjack axe in her hands.

"You know, I heard IHOP's having an all-you-can-eat pancake special right now," Alanna told her. "An extra fifty percent off if you're royalty!"

" _Really?_ " cried Josiane. She was distracted just long enough for Alanna to get a jab at her. Somehow Faithful got mortally wounded in the skirmish, which caused the future Queen Thayet to later banish all axes from palace grounds on the count of feline abuse.

Once Alanna chopped down Josiane, she headed downstairs and was taken unawares by Alex, who was hiding suspiciously in the shadows as usual. He came out of nowhere dressed in the hottest fashions straight from the pages of _Tortall Vogue_ , complete with a glamorous designer sword crafted by Roger.

"Where'd you find _those_ rags?" sneered Alex. "The broom closet at the dollar store?"

Alanna kicked his ass in about five seconds and continued her way down to the tombs under the palace, where Roger was working his earthquake m-m-magic. Somewhere in the distance, she heard something that sounded an awful lot like a drunken Myles singing an encouraging tune:

_Slay us a duke, you're the Lioness_   
_Slay us a duke tonight_   
_'Cause we're all in no mood for his fashion now_   
_So you've got to give him a fight!_

Alanna cracked her knuckles. "Sounds good to me."

She found the undead duke lounging down in the palace tombs, seeking relationship advice from that month's issue of _Corus Cosmopolitan._ "Oh, _Cosmo_ , dating myself can be _such_ a chore sometimes," he tutted to his magazine. "I hope you're right about the wine and the hot bath to get myself in the right mood."

Alanna grimaced. "Dude, I really did not need to hear that."

Roger looked up from his _Cosmo_ and smiled. "Ah, my favorite fashion hater. I see you're dressed as tastelessly as ever."

Alanna drew her big, manly sword. "Why don't you go back to your grave, you male trollop?"

"Oh, puh-leez. You're one to talk, throwing the word trollop around. _I'm_ not the one sleeping around with three men at once." Roger admired his reflection. "I have far different needs."

"I didn't need to hear _that_ either."

"Well at least I'm not a she-male!" Roger snapped at her.

"Is that right? You've sure done a good job turning Jon into one! He could have had a chance at being somewhat manly if it wasn't for your influence! What's with the earthquake, anyway, pal?"

Roger patted a stray hair into place. "Its purpose is to destroy everyone who has bad fashion sense, of course. Which is basically everyone in the entire palace."

"Including you, apparently," Alanna pointed out. "I'm no expert, but you look pretty tacky wearing gold _and_ silver jewelry together. It doesn't even match your outfit!"

"I _made_ this jewelry, for your information," Roger huffed at her. "I can wear it however I please! I'd like to see _you_ try and make all these fabulous necklaces, bracelets, rings, sword hilts—"

"Did you say _rings_?" Alanna interrupted.

Meanwhile, a hobbit named Frodo Baggins lost one of his fingers while an incredibly tacky piece of gold jewelry fell into a fiery volcano. Roger suddenly burst into flames.

"Well that was a freebie," said Alanna, looking down at the pile of ashes that used to be Roger.

* * *

"So," the newly crowned Queen—uh, _King_ Jonathan asked when Alanna returned from the tombs. "Did you discover the secret of what made Roger's hair so silky and lustrous?"

Alanna smacked herself in the forehead. "Damn it, I knew I was forgetting something." Suddenly Thom's dying words came back to her. "Oh, wait. I think it might have had something to do with L'Oreal?"

"To the beauty shop!" cried Jon. He galloped away on a unicorn that came out of nowhere and set out on a quest to make his hair silky soft.

"Looks like it's just me and you, foxy lady," purred George, taking Alanna by the hand. "Everyone else is out of the picture! Liam was quite the macho man, but a bunch of arrows made him into a beefcake pincushion. So now it's time for me to get my hands on that rack—"

"Dude, just say boobs already!" said Alanna. "It's not going to kill you."

George blinked at her in confusion. "I was going to make a grab for that rack of freshly baked pies so we can have a nice, celebratory dessert, but if _that's_ what you want to call it—"

Alanna sighed. "Never mind."

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

**Alanna** shacked up with George and had a very manly wedding in which everyone was served beef jerky and had to guzzle six packs until they puked. She founded Tortall's very first Man-lympics, a series of athletic competitions for manly men. Her greatest achievement is knowing that George has never once tried to put on her bra.

 **George** finally discovered a permanent cure for his herpes. This cure backfired when he came down with an unfortunate side effect that forced him to do the Macarena every time somebody mentioned the word "salad." He began frequenting hamburger restaurants in an attempt to avoid the dreaded s-word and now has high cholesterol. He can be seen on the streets of Corus giving public service announcements on the dangers of herpes.

 **Jon** **and** **Thayet** got married and adopted forty billion cats. Together they opened up Tortall's very first Kitties R Us, the cat superstore for all your feline needs! Along with their mutual delight in all things with fur and whiskers, the two of them have gone down in Tortall history as the only royal couple to share each other's outfits. Jon looked quite dazzling at the wedding in his white glittery high heels.

 **Raoul** never mentioned Francis again and started his own support group for troubled individuals saddled with stale catchphrases. Years later he would go on to become the miracle worker who got Owen of Jesslaw to finally stop calling things "jolly."

 **Gary** was horrified when he stumbled upon Alex's body while cleaning up after the earthquake. He spent the rest of his life in a guilty haze wailing "ALEX!" at random moments. Even Raoul couldn't save him.

 **Myles** won the grand prize at a karaoke bar for his heartrending cover of "They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard." He used his prize money to start up his own cocktail lounge, but due to his dyslexia he ended up calling the place _Mlyes'_ , which nobody could pronounce. He and Eleni are currently living in a dumpster in downtown Corus doing outrageous things in exchange for Klondike Bars.

 **Delia** was arrested after trying to stab Jon with his own handcrafted tiara. She has been voted Corus Prison's Worst Dressed Inmate twelve years in a row.

 **Coram** convinced Rispah to polish his sword every night (wink wink). The two of them spend most of their time lounging in a swimming pool filled with beer.

 **Buri** held a grudge because she barely had any dialogue in this story. She was then given her very own sitcom called _That Buri Show_ which became #1 on The Tortall Network. Her catchphrase on the show was "Mithros' coconuts!" until a few support group sessions with Raoul cured her of it.

 **Alex's Ghost** spent years in the afterlife giving styling tips to Francis' ghost. Francis' ghost eventually got fed up with this and was transferred to a different afterlife. He now spends his time picking flowers and thinking on his fond memories of Raoul.

 **Roger's Ghost** has last been spotted haunting the makeup counter at the local Macy's. Customers have been known to burst into tears when an invisible voice whispers how tacky they look.

 **The Shang Dragon** will always be studlier than you.

**THE END**


End file.
